


August, Honey

by natimesia



Series: August, Honey [1]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Also Even sweats a lot, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Feels, Band Fic, Even’s kind of dramatic, F/M, Famous Even Bech Naesheim, M/M, Pining, but he’s so in love with Isak so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:49:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24426073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natimesia/pseuds/natimesia
Summary: there’s the beginning,and then the rekindling,but there’s the realization,the end,and finally, the choice.despite that, all it takes is nine minutes.
Relationships: Even Bech Næsheim/Isak Valtersen
Series: August, Honey [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1812448
Comments: 125
Kudos: 181





	1. there’s the beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally eyeing the clock behind the bartender’s head which he was adamant to ignore just a few moments back, he’s mildly surprised and a whole lot disappointed when he realizes that his nine minutes is almost up.
> 
> Even's also a whole lot of surprised and just mildly disappointed when it dawns to him: it only took nine minutes and fewer words than that for him to fall in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ft. cherry gums, dingy bars and the unholiest rendition of take me to church

New York is stifling in August, Even finds, and so is the bar he’s in.

He kind of loves it.

For someone who has never stepped foot in the building until an hour ago, Even feels strangely homey. It’s probably because the dark red bricks surrounding the whole establishment reminds him of the ones in Elias’ basement where they spent too many hours hanging out in. It’s definitely more cramped than the other venues they’ve booked for the tour, and yet, somehow, that eases the nerves Even has been feeling ever since they crossed the pond two days ago.

Even has a hunch that Yousef particularly chose this location with this kind of vibe solely for the purpose of giving a sense of familiarity to the group. Yousef is perceptive like that, Even thinks. This is the band’s first intercontinental tour, and while everyone is buzzing from excitement, the underlying pressure and jitters is palpable among them. 

The show tonight is just a dry run of some sorts. It was Eva’s idea – the whole getting the lay of the land thing. The first day of the official tour starts tomorrow, yet the whole band is present this evening. It wasn’t a secret that they're here, but they haven’t given any indication that they are, either. 

Even so, he notices that there is a crowd tonight. The whole place is hundreds of conversations told in loud voices, laughter overpowering the rock music dominating the atmosphere. The people are young, students from the university a few blocks from here for the most part. There’s a green room backstage where Even can nurse his drink more peacefully, but he prefers hanging out by the bar. That’s his thing – or was, anyway - way back when no one bothered to spare him a second glance. These days, he couldn’t even enter a pub or a restaurant without having to leave through the back door.

But that’s back in Norway. There’s a whole ocean that separates him from home now.

Here in New York, it’s less patronizing and more liberating. Even feels like he could be anyone, or perhaps no one at all. The people flow like rivers, never stopping from obstacles but swirling around them. Right in this very pub, no one seems to know him. There’s something therapeutic about being able to freely scan the crowd and hold eye contact without expecting any manic reaction or getting any recognition; the brave ones that does, do it with other motives in mind. Even’s interest is piqued, so he takes note of it all.

It is wacky to think that there was ever a moment where even booking this dingy bar is a whole lot of struggle for the band. Now, booking tours is not a hellscape of pure tedium anymore. Cold-calling venues months in advance where most of the emails leave them hanging seems like light years away. They’re no longer deemed as a struggling band that most people have never heard of, taking stages to play in front of audiences of little to no people. Gone were the days when they played with wretched sound systems in front of literally nobody save for the venue’s staff. Now, they have Elias for that.

Days went by when they meticulously kept track of all expenses - gas, food, accommodations, equipment repairs for the shitty van and everything else that entailed which usually caused a rift between Mikael and Jonas. For quite some time, it was a series of _Mikael’s too frugal for his own good_ and _i_ _t’s not my fault Jonas does not know basic math even if his life depended on it!_ told in different scenarios, and Even and Eva usually take the position of being the damn pacifists in order to break the brawl that usually follows. These days, one look from Eskild shuts them both right up.

They play in decent locations now. They don’t have to struggle with making do with newly opened bars with no reputation or built-in crowd, raucous pubs ten years removed from their heydays, or strip mall restobars full of self-righteous assholes who enticed Eva to try to show a little bit more skin. Now, they have Yousef.

Even is not pretentious enough to admit that those were the best days of his pitiful life - camping out on a friend of a friend’s floor for the night because hotels or AirBnBs is almost always out of the question, because blowing a $50 on a room for a night doesn’t make any sense when the band only makes $30 the night before. Even does not miss the back pains and the crick on his neck that consequently follow in the morning after he tried (and failed) to fold his six foot four ass in the friend of a friend’s sister’s bed in exchange of the floor for the night, but he surely does miss bickering with Mikael on whose turn it is to pay for gas to get to the next show.

Even sees Elias up on the stage, making a last minute check-up and making sure that every equipment is plugged and all the wire’s in place. It has become something that is absolutely mandated for the roadies to do ever since that one gig in London where they all ended up in the hospital because Even tripped over the wire hooked on his guitar, banged his head on one of the speakers and simultaneously broke his nose in the process. 

It turns out they didn’t even have enough pounds to get checked in a clinic, so that left Even alternate the bag of frozen peas between his head and nose at the back of the van, all the while placating his bandmates that _no, Eva, I do not have concussion_ and that _we don’t really need to go to the hospital anyway, guys._

“What a bloody show,” Even had quipped in a poor attempt of an English accent, and Mikael had to leave the van for a good thirty minutes, muttering _he might have a concussion_ over and over again under his breath just to stop himself from smacking Even right in the head.

They were still basically a nobody the time that happened. And _thank God_ for that. Even’s not one to embarrass easily, but if he ever makes a list, that is probably in his top five.

And that’s how it all started, come to think of it. While they all sat at the back of the van with a _what now?_ question looming over their heads, a semi-bald guy who introduced himself as Elias seemed to pop out of nowhere and told them that he saw the whole thing, and then proceeded to say that _if you guys continue to be that uncoordinated and just plain messy on stage, all of you will certainly get a concussion in no time_. The next day, Elias introduced them to Yousef who’d book them. Then that led to another, then another, then two more, then three more, then they’d got a circuit and a following. Seemingly out of nowhere, Vilde popped in, and then her roommate Noora made great friends with Eva, and just like that, they have roadies, and they have a groupie.

They began putting out their music on standard platforms like Soundcloud; Elias helped them stick together a few videos with illegally infringed footage from the 70's in the background that got a couple thousand hits on Youtube. Yousef even successfully got semi-popular duo Mutta and Adam to do a vlog in one of their gigs. It was going well for quite some time, but the thing that sealed the deal, the thing that ultimately secured their place in the industry, was a grainy video taken by Eskild with his fucking android of Even and Eva delivering what seemed to be the unholiest rendition of _Take Me To Church_ while Jonas and Mikael drunkenly made out in the background.

Mikael and Jonas were adamant that Eskild take the video down _immediately_ , but that thought went down the drain when fucking Hozier posted a twitter link of the same video a day later.

Much to Even's dismay, Hozier didn't contact them after; Jonas is a hundred percent sure the Irish God was just as drunk as them when he tweeted that. Nonetheless, it got people to talk, and well - it just sorts of snowballs from there.

Even still, it was vague to everybody when and where it started. Ask Eva and she’ll tell you one thing, ask Jonas and Mikael and they'll definitely tell you another. Somehow, their origin story boiled down to two options: it was either that drunken Hozier tweet, or what has now been dubbed as the “bloody show”. In the end, the latter stuck, much to Even’s slight annoyance.

And that was that.

Now, after sold out concerts in actual theaters back home, they’re back in another one of those dingy dive bars to pay homage of some sorts. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing, Even justifies. This kind of dingy dive bar where he currently sits has, in all actuality, a special place in his heart. It’s in this kind of place where the four of them got the chance to develop musically and forge a real musical identity. It's also where they built a once in a lifetime friendship, and sure, Even and Mikael have the tendency to choke each other most of the time, and Eva gets into a habit of fighting every other girl that pulls up her shirt and ask Jonas to sign her rack, but Even does not want it any other way. 

Because every beautiful thing that happened in Even's life, happened in a dingy bar.

“ _Gastropub_ ,” Even can already hear Mikael's incorrect correction. “Keep up, Bech Næsheim. We’re in the United States of America.”

What a dork, honestly. And an idiot one at that. The place doesn't even serve high-quality food. Petrille's is really just that - a dingy dive bar.

Speaking of the pretentious dork, Even sees Mikael coming from the back door looking a bit disgruntled, but that's probably because he's carrying a speaker half the size of his whole body.

“What time are we on?”

“21:30,” Mikael answers, not even sparing him a glance.

“What time’s it?” Even asks, albeit being well-aware of the clock hanging behind the bartender's head. Nothing pumps him before the show than heckling an already heckled Mikael.

“Time to get a fucking watch!” he hears Mikael shouts gleefully, just as another voice from his left speaks.

“21:21.”

Nine more minutes, his subconscious says.

Even turns, and just - stops.

There is a boy sitting there, close to him, tracing the neck of the beer he’s currently nursing with what looks to be the softest finger in the world. The way Even notices such particular detail causes him to pull straight to the full of his six foot four frame. Catching the movement, the boy looks up, and they meet each other’s frank gaze for the first time.

Even stops talking, stops moving, and for a few short seconds, stops breathing altogether.

He takes in this tall beauty, remarking to himself that they don’t make men like him in USA. There’s something foreign about him, but there's something so familiar, too. Even’s completely caught off guard by the seeming depth of pure Norwegian waters that stare back at him.

He's dressed up like every other university guy in the pub - a ratty band shirt, black ripped Levi's and classic Chucks. It suits him perfectly, but Even doesn't buy it. Something is wrong - out of place. The boy looks the part, but he certifiably does not belong here.

And the thing is, Even has always found himself hardwired to flirt mercilessly with anything that has a pulse. He's not reluctant to admit that - literally everyone who knows him knows that. _It's just a part of my charm,_ is what he usually says when called out.

Even is used to the looks tossed his way even before the band made noise. What he isn’t used to is this feeling now growing tight across his chest that expanded slowly with the smile that creeps the length of the boy's face, until it finally falls laughing in a heap of creases framing those eyes full of mirth.

It’s the lips, Even’s mind supplies. It _curls_.

Or the hair? It’s _curly_.

It’s the eyes, Even has decided. It's _emerald_.

Then the boy speaks.

“I think I know you.”

No, it’s _him_ , Even realizes. Everything.

Everything.

Heart beating fast, Even says, “We’ve never met, but I think you do."

The boy holds his gaze for a bit longer before dropping it and nods. He seems satisfied with Even’s response because he doesn’t say anything else.

And that just won’t do for Even.

Finally eyeing the clock behind the bartender’s head which he was adamant to ignore just a few moments back, he’s mildly surprised and a whole lot disappointed when he realizes that his nine minutes is almost up.

Even's also a whole lot of surprised and just mildly disappointed when it dawns to him: it only took nine minutes and fewer words than that for him to fall in love.

“Don’t leave after the show,” Even says.

If he strains his ears just a tad bit more, he can hear Eskild’s slightly panicked voice, yelling at the bouncers to _please look for the giraffe-looking man we have for a vocalist_. Even knows he’s stretching it this time. After that disaster where they had to cancel a gig because he and Jonas got too high at the back alley an hour before they were supposed to perform, Eskild made it his mission to instil his 5-minute rule ever since. Right now, Even's way past the time limit.

He knows he’s in so much trouble - he could already hear Eskild’s berate a few hours from now.

He also knows that he’s not going to leave his seat, not until the boy guarantees his presence after the show.

“Why?”

Under the dimmed lights, Even can still capture how his eyes sparkle with a mixture of innocence and mischief, and it's perfect, because playing “hard-to-get” only makes him more appealing. Even loves a good challenge, and although there’s really no challenge to speak of at all because they both know the boy’s going to stay after and what Even said was a mere rhetorical question - it isn’t even that, truth all laid out, it was more of a demand despite sounding like a plea, he appreciates the small act of defiance.

It was a matter of _yes_ or _no_ or _okay_ or _fuck off,_ but the boy is asking for a reason instead, and so a reason Even shall provide.

And see, Even _is_ a man of words, but he's _also_ a man of action, and just as he feels the seconds trickle down, he finds it justifiably proper when Even grabs him, pulls him, and tastes him. Even _licks_ , and when they break apart, the boy’s eyes look hazy and glazed.

“I got your gum,” the boy says slowly, and starts to chew.

“And I’m going to need it back. Stay.” Now it _does_ sound like a demand.

Even leaves for the stage just as the lights grow dimmer and the electric undercurrent amps up.

Show time.

**x**

Even does not give himself the chance to cool-off and work away the post-show energy. Right after he gets off the stage, Even heads straight to the bar, and with heart pounding, pulse all jacked up, and ears still ringing, he grabs his boy.

Everything that happens after that feels like a blur. Even vaguely remembers slamming the bathroom door shut behind him and picking the boy up easily, then there’s him wrapping his legs around Even’s waist while molding their hot lips together, and the remnant taste of the cherry gum clings in the air they share as the boy licks, his tongue dipping deep into Even's mouth. It is so raw and so, so dirty and Even only realizes the gum back in his mouth upon hearing the boy mumble _‘kept it soft for you’_ –

And then he kneels.

This time, it takes less than nine minutes for Even to finish.

The boy’s _obscene_. There’s no other way to put it.

After, Even catches him wipe his mouth as he stands with shaky legs. Even slides his thumb over the boy’s lower lip, eyes big and chest hot against Even's body, and then he’s kissing him deeply. The boy whines - his jaw must be sore - but then he moans. It sounds sweet. It is the _filthiest_ thing he's ever heard.

Even’s absolutely fucked.

The boy pulls back, and slowly starts chewing again. He takes one look at Even’s disheveled state and pecks him one more time.

“Thanks for the gum.”

And then he’s opening the stall, and then he’s walking away.

“Wait. Will you see us play again?” The boy looks back just as Even fights back a boyish grin, not wanting to appear too desperate, but he couldn’t contain himself.

Still chewing slowly, still smiling, the boy says, “I don’t know. I just hooked up with you.”

“So?”

He pauses and leans back against the sink, contemplating a bit. “The thing about hooking up with a member of a famous band is the inevitability of having a song written about you,” he recites. Then, the playful glint in his eyes is back. “You gonna write a song about me, stud?”

What a tease.

Even can’t get enough of him.

“Okay,” he says, because he can, and he already hears the melody, anyway.

The boy hums as he dawdles by the bathroom door. “Alright. Tell me the first three things you see right now.”

And that – that’s not what Even expects of him to say. So he stares.

“Go,” the boy urges softly, so Even lets his eyes wander.

Up. “Um. Electric fan.”

Left. “Beige wall.”

Forward. “You.”

The boy nods with pursed lips, seemingly satisfied. “That’s going to be one interesting song,” he muses. “I’m looking forward to it. I’ll see you around, Even Bech Næsheim.”

**x**

That same night, Even wrote a song.

Just when he finishes it that it registers to him that he doesn’t even have a name to dedicate it to.


	2. and then the rekindling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak has been absent for a week, and Isak’s the sun, see, and Even hasn’t seen the sun in a week, and the sun gets cold during the winter, but it’s in the middle of August, and it doesn’t rain in Albuquerque in the middle of August unlike Chicago, but Even is still cold all over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ft. an american flag bandana, sketchy tattoo parlors, shaving shenanigans (sans shaving cream) and a broken mirror
> 
> Songs:
> 
> Beige - Yoke Lore  
> Snaggletooth - Vance Joy  
> Something Tells Me - BAILEN  
> Say It Ain't So - Calpurnia cover  
> I'm Not In Love - 10cc  
> August - Flipturn  
> Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole - Your Smith  
> October - George Ogilvie  
> Cold - Flipturn  
> Darling - Flipturn

The next time Even sees him is in Washington DC. 

It’s one week later, they’ve bagged two shows since then, and he’s just coming back from answering a series of basic interview questions from a rather slightly raunchy and a whole lot of unprofessional American interviewer who looked seconds away from shoving her tongue down Even’s throat. He’d find it funny if he wasn’t so offended that she was more interested in talking about his sexual preferences than their actual music. 

Even is no saint; he’s not usually irked by these types of people. He’d be a hypocrite if he is - he’s one of them after all. He takes pride in being crowned as the Royal Master Instigator of Flirting with Jonas’ snapback as the crown one night when they got too drunk on cheap beer and had just finished binge-watching the two Princess Diaries movies back-to-back. Hell, just two nights ago, Mikael and Elias kept on giving him the most unsubtle winks and hoots as he found himself sandwiched by a very good-looking Philly couple backstage right after the show. Their proposition of a threesome hung heavily in the air, but Even had decidedly already bagged himself his own good time for the night, and he was sitting next to Vilde across the room, sending Even knowing glances every five minutes. Philadelphia was Even falling into a strange bed with a stranger at one AM, and at two, it was him climbing into his own bed alone, feeling tired and high from his late night fun activity, but not enough to switch off his brain for some song writing.

He’s written three new songs ever since New York. 

When Eva took notice, Even simply said, “Found my muse.” Because it is the truth, he did find his muse, and they all know that the muse strikes when it feels like it, not when he wants it to, and Even really finds no reason to hide it. _He_ is not something to hide, Even has decided. 

Yousef could not book a recording studio for such a short memo, and the tight schedule doesn’t really allow them to, so they make do with the portable studio Elias rolled out on the bus. They did short sessions, took cue of what fits and incorporated some mixes, and after three takes on _Snaggletooth_ , Eva asks for a breather, and Jonas kicks back on the couch and whistles, “Some muse.”

Even agrees. Some muse it really is.

He wasn’t in New York when the band officially started the tour, and he wasn’t in the Philadelphia show, either. Even is not disappointed; he wasn’t even expecting to see him soon at all. He doesn’t look out for him; doesn’t even think about him that much, except at night when Even’s brain is wired on writing and all he could ever think about is cherry gum and cupid’s bow and just green, green, _green_.

He’s here now though, casually leaning sideways on the tour bus and he’s talking to Eva. His blonde hair’s almost glowing as it catches glimpse of the last rays of the afternoon sun, and Even cannot see his face, but from the way he bounces on the balls of his feet, he can picture the boy’s cupid bow tilted up and his eyes sparkling, and Even just wants to eat him up.

He can’t though; Eskild’s absolutely going to kill him. 

Because it’s fifteen fucking minutes before show time and _of course_ that’s when Even sees him.

As he approaches, he hears an excited _let’s do it!_ from the boy and starts actively bouncing, feet still clad with the cleanest classic Chucks Even has ever seen. His long legs are wrapped in the same black ripped Levi’s, and his ragged shirt is now replaced with the band’s own merchandise.

Eva sees Even approach and gives a subtle nod. 

“Let’s do what?” Even says, bites the bullet and wraps his arms around the slightly shorter boy’s waist. 

Even’s well aware of Eva’s stare, but he doesn’t pay attention to her at all, not when the boy is here, in Washington DC of all places, and he vaguely wonders why, but then the boy has instinctively leaned back on Even’s chest and he’s comfortably settling his hands on top of Even’s, all the while keeping his eyes trained on Eva. Even would be offended that he wasn’t immediately given full attention if it is not for how endeared he is on how the boy proceeds to intertwine their fingers together rather seamlessly.

“Alright,” Eva says, breaking Even’s train of thought. Eva gives both of them another look, but Even decidedly ignores it.

It’s five seconds of watching her walk away and another two seconds of silence before Even finally loses his patience and spins the boy around. As if on instinct, the boy wraps his arms around Even’s neck and looks at him through his eyelashes, head slightly tilted up. 

“Hello,” he greets.

“Let’s do what?” Even insists.

The boy giggles. He fucking _giggles_.

“It’s a secret.”

“You’re having secrets with my bandmates now?”

The boy nods his head and bites those goddamn lips. Even stares at it for a second, and then pouts. “Well, I want my own secret, too.”

“Okay,” he complies easily. He tightens his hold around Even’s neck lightly and pulls him down so that he reaches his ears. Even doesn’t need to lean down far; he only has a couple of inches on the boy, but he deliberately bends lower than he has to just to elicit another giggle.

“I like you,” he whispers, and he does it conspiratorially, and then he pulls back and Even can see him smiling oh so innocently. And _well_ , that’s just deceiving, isn’t it? Because this boy, Even has come to learn, is anything _but_ innocent.

Never before have eyes held such danger and beauty all at once. The boy is a wildfire, Even thinks; reckless, untamed, yet undeniably captivating.

“Stay,” Even breathes.

The boy puts on a show of looking as if he’s thinking about it. Even rolls his eyes; he knows that look. He’s already seen it before.

What he hasn’t expected is the deep kiss. 

Oh, and the tongue.

The boy pulls back (and why does he keep on pulling back? Can’t he feel Even’s tightening grip on his waist to keep him closer in place?) before Even can start to fully enjoy it. “No gum,” he pouts. “What’s going to be my incentive this time, then?”

What a minx. 

Reigning in his Royal Master Instigator of Flirting title, Even leans in and whispers, “I believe I do owe you one,” in his ear before biting his earlobe, and Even relishes the thrill he feels when the boy positively shivers.

The boy composes himself fast, though. “Well, in that case.” He smiles coyly and takes the American flag bandana hanging around Even’s neck. “I’m going to keep this. We’ll need it for later, no?”

And it is Even’s time to shiver.

That night, the harsh light burns bright on the stage and it irritates Even’s eyes to no end, but he makes sure to never let the boy out of sight.

When Even introduces their new song _Beige_ , he makes certain that the boy is listening. 

When he starts crooning about surviving in the wild and making plants and roots and dreaming about _electric fans_ , he relishes on the delighted smile that breaks out of the boy’s face. 

When he is declaring that he wants it all because being _beautiful_ isn’t even half of what Even wants from him, he almost loses his momentum as he laughs at the boy’s exaggerated display of swooning.

And when he sings – _pleads_ – in repeat about not letting him fall, the boy shakes his head no, and Even nods in defeat.

It’s alright, Even thinks. He’s accepted his fate. 

And this time, in Washington DC, it is the boy who is pulling Even away from the bar and into a hotel room.

In the end, they did not get the chance to settle his debt; it has just become 2:1 because Even is absolutely incapable of stopping himself when he’s got the boy all spread out for him looking mighty delicious, his wrists tied up with Even’s bandana, and it’s going to bruise, he thinks, and he tells him so, but the boy does not relent, because the boy distinctly wants it tight.

 _How fitting_ , Even muses as he tucks a second finger next to his first which consequently elicits a louder moan, considering how tight _he_ is.

They lay in the rough sheets of his hotel bed for a long time, but Even’s not really sure. He’s a little far away at the moment, a little floaty of some sorts, a little lost in the white, and he comes to leisurely when he realizes that his eyes burn from staring too long at the now soiled American flag bandana still wrapped loosely on the boy’s left hand – the same hand which is now making small, indistinguishable patterns on Even’s sticky chest. Even blinks and diverts his eyes up and watches the red and white lights from cars outside running across the hotel room’s beige ceiling, the boy a comforting weight on top of him.

Even finally lifts his head to properly look at the boy, and his gaze swims a little before his eyes focus in. He takes in the sheen of sweat across his face, and the sweetest smile gracing his sweet, sweet lips.

Another moment passes and the boy starts to stand. Even immediately feels cold all over.

“You’re not staying,” he says and he knows the answer even before saying it out loud. 

The boy jumps as he pulls his jeans up while he shakes his head no in response.

“When will I see you again?” Even hates – _despises_ \- how desperate he sounds.

It takes a beat before - “I like your song.” His face shifts to the mischievous look Even is getting accustomed to. “Or should I say my song?”

Even’s conflicted with the emotions that flood through his veins. On one hand, he hates how the boy easily dismisses his question. On the other hand, the narcissistic part in him preens even on such a simple praise.

In the end, it seems the look of frustration wins judging by the amused laugh that the boy releases.

“Not for a while,” he finally answers.

“Why?”

The boy sighs deep. “Did you know,” he starts and then carelessly throws his body back to the bed, back to Even’s waiting arms. “That you haven’t asked for my name yet? All this time I was waiting for you to ask. I even made a little game out of it, see. If he asks while I’m giving him a blowjob, I’ll buy myself a pint of ice cream tonight; if he asks while he’s fingering me, I’ll get a whole tub. But I’ve already blown you and you’ve already fingered me, yet you still haven’t asked. I don’t care about the ice cream now. I’m just dying to know what you call me in that pretty little head of yours.”

The boy’s rambling, and he’s got his cute button nose scrunched while doing so, and it’s frightening how Even’s heart feels so full for feeling so charmed. If the boy feels Even’s arms wrap tighter around his naked torso, he doesn’t comment on it.

“The boy,” Even answers honestly.

Said boy snorts in Even’s neck and then laughs. “Well that’s disappointing,” he muses. He lifts his head to look at Even, before softly saying, “It’s Isak, by the way.”

“Isak,” Even says aloud. “Hello, Isak.”

Isak smiles at him. “Halla, Even.”

He says it softly, and his smile is soft, too, and suddenly, everything’s soft, and even the shitty mattress, despite the itchy sheets, feels like cloud nine at the moment.

But then Isak stands again, and Even is cold again.

“Isak. Stay.”

Isak laughs. “Isak. Leave,” he says monotonously, attempting to sound like a robot, and then shakes his head for the sheer ridiculousness of his action. Meanwhile, Even’s just endeared.

“I don’t want you getting tired of me easily.”

_I’m not. I won’t._

“When’s a while?” Even says instead. 

Isak only smiles, fondly if Even says so himself.

“You won’t tell me?”

Isak pecks him on the lips before shaking his head no.

“I’ll call you,” he says instead, already heading for the door.

“But you don’t have my number, Isak,” Even whines.

“I’ll find you. I have eyes.” And as if on cue, said emerald eyes glint even in the darkness of the room. 

They only lose eye contact when Isak goes out of the door.

Even groans loudly as he stretches, and he lies idly for a couple more minutes, basks at his post-orgasm glow for a few more moments, and then he finally hauls himself out of bed. He feels tired and sore, like the events of the past few days are finally catching up to him. Even still, he slips on his fallen jeans and mesh jumper haphazardly slung by the chair, grabs the pack of cigarettes and his journal from the top of his luggage which he has yet to unpack, and proceeds to plop himself by the window. He lights his first cigarette for the night and taps his pen absentmindedly against his thigh. He scribbles _For Isak_ in his uneven, loopy handwriting on the top corner of the journal, and then he writes. 

He scratches out a few lines - _when you run, when you’re gone, i’ll be waiting for you, dear_ \- and proceeds to snub his newly-lit fag out right on _waiting_.

**x**

And just like that, Isak’s nowhere and then Isak’s everywhere.

Even catches a glimpse of him in every lyric he writes, hears him whenever he picks at his guitar to play the melody that just seemingly pops out of nowhere whenever he’s reminded of Isak’s laugh. Even sees Isak’s face in every crowd he plays to, in every person he interacts with, in every bathroom of every bar they play at. 

He’s so consumed by him that Bethlehem and Mashantucket flies by without Even even noticing. He buys a pack of cherry gum in every mom and pop store they stop by and adamantly refuses to share them with anyone because it’s the same taste he associates with Isak, and Even is the only one allowed to taste. One night in New Haven, there’s a girl who’s trying too hard to pull him for the night, and she’s cute, but she’s leaning so close and he can distinctly smell her cherry Chapstick. Even leaves the bar with blue balls and strings of angry curses hurtled to his back.

But he doesn’t care; he can jerk off by himself. He doesn’t even really need much to release his pent-up sexual frustration these days, anyway.

And he has Isak – well, for those times he deems Even worthy of gracing his presence, at least. 

Safe to say that the boy ruined him for anybody else, and ruined anybody else for him.

Even embraces the sentiment with gratification.

**x**

Boston though - it’s something else. Boston is nostalgic. 

Boston has Isak. 

“Found you.” 

Even hears him before he sees him. 

Ten minutes before the show, that is. 

He’d complain about how the fuck this boy always manages to catch up with him when he’s on the verge of being murdered by Eskild, but he simply cannot waste time on that when he can get his lips move and latch on something more interesting instead.

Having that delicious thought in mind, Even doesn’t waste time; doesn’t even bother excusing himself from the girl talking to him, because Isak’s here.

Isak’s here and here’s Isak. 

Even hears Isak shout a cheeky _bye!_ to – Mia? Marga? – as he pulls him out of the venue and pushes him roughly against the railings of the back alley stairs, and that must have hurt, he thinks, but Isak just moans, so Even attacks.

Isak’s lips are chapped and worn from his incessant biting, but against Even’s they’re soft as velvet, and he tastes so, so sweet that Even can’t help but lick, and his hands move to squeeze Isak’s waist just once, eliciting another deep guttural moan, and that’s just right because it is a deep kiss, and it’s filthy, and it tastes like a promise.

“What took you so long, baby?” Even pants in between kisses.

“I told you, I don’t want you getting sick of me yet,” Isak says when Even decides that he’s done assaulting Isak’s lips for now and targets his neck next.

“Never gonna get sick of you,” Even mumbles against Isak’s collarbone. He feels it vibrate when Isak laughs.

“You say that because I kept far away. Seems you’re just as keen in proving my point.” 

Even rolls his eyes because Isak’s a hundred percent right and he hates being wrong. It’s not his fault though; those clavicles are _begging_ to be bitten. “Seven days too long,” he grumbles.

“But I found you.”

For a second, he stops and takes a look at Isak properly for the first time tonight. He looks exceptionally beautiful under the dim lights, with his golden curls and red-bitten lips alight just right, and the skin of his neck already looks so tender from the forming hickeys Even has just made.

He pecks him once, twice, and it’s so innocent compared to what he’s been doing just a few seconds ago. It’s slow and it’s languid. Even rests his hand below Isak’s ear, his thumb caressing his cheek as their breaths mingled.

“You found me,” Even agrees softly, moving to connect their lips again. Isak runs his fingers down Even’s spine, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between them and Even could feel the erratic beating of his heart against his chest. Then Isak starts to whimper and Even has decided that they’re done talking for now.

But then, the backdoor slams wide open, and the next thing he knows, Even tastes blood.

“Ow - what the fuck, Eskild!”

“Oh my God, oh my God, Even, baby, you’re bleeding, fuck,” Isak panics.

“ _Fy faen_ , Even! You’re needed on stage like five minutes ago!”

“Eskild!” Even all but whines while Isak pathetically dabs Even’s mouth with the hem of his shirt.

“I’ll take care of him,” Eskild says and pulls Isak away from him. Even tries and fails to grab Isak’s arms while Eskild pushes him towards the backdoor. He settles on frowning pitifully.

“Wipe that blood and get on that stage, for fuck’s sake,” Eskild mutters, and he’s using his official tour manager voice now.

“Keep an eye on him. He’s a flight risk,” Even warns, steals one last bloody kiss from a giggling Isak before going inside.

He jogs to the backstage, meets Yousef’s slightly panicked look when he sees the blood, but Even shakes his head in appeasement before dashing on stage. 

There’s no time to fuss. He’s got a show to do.

Eskild slips in halfway through the set with a blushing Isak in tow. Even watches him for a moment and briefly wonders how someone so innocent-looking could be so devastatingly deadly. 

Even ends Boston with _Something Tells Me_.

That night as they lie in bed, he whispers, “I could fall in love with you,” to Isak’s sleeping form.

_I already am._

**x**

Akron, Ohio is Even standing between Isak’s bare legs which are perched on the tour bus’ bathroom counter at two in the morning. The bathroom is not made for two people, much more to two guys over six feet tall; they barely fit, but they make do. They always do.

Isak didn’t make his usual appearance a few minutes before the show. This time, they were already in the middle of a cover of _Say It Ain’t So_ , and Even is taking a mental note of Jonas’ slight play on the chords for the bass solo during the bridge, then he lifts his head for a moment and spots a blonde head, and then realizes that it looks familiar - the _I-know-how-smooth-that-hair-is-I’ve-carded-my-fingers-through-that-halo_ kind of familiar - and then the lights hit just right and it’s Isak, and Even is slightly confused because Isak is in Ohio, but then he’s all at once ecstatic because Isak is in Ohio, so at the break before the encore, he made a last minute change of the set list, and they bagged Akron with a cover of _I’m Not In Love_.

“You my friend, is ridiculously _whipped_ ,” Jonas muttered with a good-nature clap on his back, and his shirt uncomfortably sticks from where the cotton meets his drenched skin, but Even doesn’t mind, not when such decision awarded him with a horny Isak who fucked his tongue mercilessly into Even’s mouth and bit at his lip and scratched his blunt nails down Even’s thighs as he rides him into the bunk bed with his hands tied behind his back, the American flag bandana making its second special appearance.

That was an hour ago, and neither are tired. The whole entourage has a hotel booked, but the issue of _where_ never came about the moment Isak stuck his tongue down Even’s throat. All that mattered was Isak’s urgent ‘I need you _now_ ’ and they were off to the bus, not even caring about the haughty hoots in the background.

Now, Even is holding a disposable razor stick against the hair conditioner-covered face of Isak (for a band composed of three grown-up boys and one girl, the lack of shaving cream in the bus is slightly comical and just plain pitiful) – or at least attempting to, because Isak is _insatiable_ and keeps on pressing their lips together, transferring some of the sticky cream to Even’s face, but Even doesn’t care because Isak is deliciously tracing the seam of Even’s lips with his tongue and he is just so _randy_ and Even simply cannot get enough. He fights the urge to just bend Isak over the sink and take him again until he cries. He is not going to, of course – Isak is still sore, and also because their bathroom is seriously that cramped and therefore could only result in an inevitable disaster.

Even settles on pressing Isak hard into the counter and grips his waist tightly to prevent him from wiggling so much. “Baby please stay put,” Even whispers, because he’s not going to put the sharp blade anywhere near Isak’s lovely, albeit messy face if there is any chance of cutting him. Even will never forgive himself if he does.

“It tickles,” Isak says and wrinkles his button nose, but finally settles his swinging legs and wraps it around Even’s waist instead.

Their late night shaving activity is spurred on when Eskild noticed the beard burn on Even’s face right before the show. Even relayed the story of how a totally and utterly pissed off Isak approached him after the Boston show with an amused Yousef and a dubious-looking bouncer in tow. Apparently, he was blocked by the security outside the club where they decided to have an after party because he was mistaken as a minor and were it not for Yousef recognizing him as he was about to pass through the main door to bum a smoke, Isak would definitely have not gotten in. Yousef and Elias were nearly in tears witnessing six foot four Even giving the over seven foot tall bouncer the most pathetic tell-off because he simply cannot have Isak sulking for the rest of the night, but more importantly because he was at least 69 (heh) percent sure he will not be getting laid if Even does not at the very least defend Isak’s honor. So. _A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do._ In Even’s own personal opinion, the security cannot really be blamed for doubting Isak. His boy literally looks like a 28-year old trapped in an 18-year old boy’s body.

“Since Boston, Isak’s been growing his beard, and if the beard burn’s the consequence of having to kiss him, Eskild, that’s something I’m more than willing to sacrifice,” Even finished his monologue with a solemn nod.

Unfortunately, it was not taken receptively well by his unimpressed manager. After the show, he went to find Isak and gave him a ten-minute lecture on proper hygiene and ended it with a bunch of questions of _what beauty products do you use to maintain that ethereal skin, baby gay?_ And Isak, who was thoroughly unamused by the whole hygiene lecture, snootily replied, “It’s good genes,” before pulling a lovesick Even to the tour bus and proceeded to prove Eskild wrong, grumbling _proper hygiene my ass_ when his mouth was not rather occupied. 

Safe to say Even’s thighs are going to deliciously chafe for the next few days.

In the end, Eskild still wins, because as much as it amuses Even how adamant Isak is in his attempt to salvage his pride, he simply cannot sport a beard burn all throughout the tour. Eskild cannot have a conniption every time he sees Even.

“Still can’t believe they almost didn’t let you in. That’s funny.”

“No it isn’t! I had to show them my ID and stuff. It was humiliating,” Isak grumbles.

Even hums. “You should’ve said you’re with the vocalist,” he says quietly.

Isak tilts his head up and raises his eyebrows challengingly. “But I’m not with the vocalist.”

Even fights the urge to stomp his foot in indignance. Instead, he sighs in defeat. “Well, you can’t blame them,” he says, changing the topic. “You don’t look a day over 18.”

Isak rolls his eyes. “Shush, you. I’ve already been given enough grief by your tour manager.” He pronounces _tour manager_ with spite.

Even chuckles. “It’s Eskild,” he simply says, as if that alone is enough for an explanation. Somehow, it kind of is.

Isak doesn’t relent. “He told me I was kinky, and that he likes it,” he scowls. “He winked at me, Even!”

Even bites his lower lip to refrain the release of a grin that would inevitably irk an already irked Isak. “Yes, baby, I heard his lecture. I saw what he did,” he placates, gently rubbing his palm on Isak’s waist. “He’s right though. You _are_ kinky.”

“You like it."

“I like _you_."

Isak rolls his eyes again, but Even can see the blood rushing to his cheeks underneath the foam. His boy is so fucking _cute_. “Good to know,” he mumbles.

Even snorts, and then sighs dramatically. “I’m gonna miss the beard though,” he muses. “Staves off the rumors that I’m shacking up with a minor. It’s not the usual scandal Eskild’s a fan of.”

Isak’s frowning face is transformed into amusement. “Is that what we’re doing? Shacking up?” he teases.

Even rolls his eyes but the smile breaking his face betrays him. “All done,” he says instead.

Isak jumps from the counter and washes his face clean. All the while, Even enjoys the view of a naked Isak bent over the sink. What a lovely, lovely sight that is. 

When he is done, he dutifully turns to Even who is already waiting with a face towel in his hands to pat him dry. 

“Hmm,” Even hums, checking for missed spots. “All clear,” he says, all smug.

Isak purrs. “Oh, I don’t know,” he says, suddenly coy. He leans and presses soft, deadly kisses along the side of Even’s neck and it’s all Even can do to grip onto Isak’s waist and curl up into him. Just like that, Even’s jeans are getting tighter and Isak’s rubbing slow circles in his thigh, his other hand trailing up and down Even’s arms and _goddamn it, why the fuck is he even wearing jeans, Jesus_. The hallway’s dark, but Even can see that Isak’s lips are already wet and swollen. “Feel like putting it up to the test?”

He then walks – or steps (the bathroom’s really cramped for his stature) (the whole bus is, actually) past him and pauses by the door. He looks back and catches Even’s eyes in the mirror. He then raises his eyebrows.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Shack me up, hot stuff.”

**x**

Chicago is making him feel romantic, so he plays _August_ for the first time.

Chicago is also Isak surging forward to hug him after the song, and Even meeting him in the middle. 

Chicago is Isak kissing him like he’s got thirty seconds to live, like he’s drowning and he’s trying to bring Even down with him, or maybe he’s trying to break out of the water and Even is the air he’s grappling to inhale. For long moments, they just stay there behind the dusty curtains that separates the stage from the backstage proper, and Even feels filthy like he always does after shows, but this time it’s a different kind of filthy, it’s the good kind of filthy, the filthy he never thought he’d crave and never wants to wash away. It’s so hot, the way that Isak bites Even’s bottom lip between his teeth, how he licks into Even’s mouth like he’s so used to it, and he _is_ used to it, and for a moment that’s all Even can focus on, but then Isak’s hand traces down Even’s torso, and then ghosts over his waist, and his thumb brushes past his already hardening nipples, and Even moans loud, and then louder when Isak’s hand travels down to the swell of Even’s ass and Even is just gone, gone, _gone._

“You’re embarrassing, holy shit.” Mikael’s voice makes Even jumps about a mile high, because he has forgotten that Mikael is here, that everyone is here, that they’re hooking up behind the curtains like goddamn teenagers, and Even is floating in some sort of an ocean, lost in the ebb of some sort of tide, but Isak’s hands are right there to steady him, and Even is pulled back to the ground.

“Get a room!” Eva shouted, so they did.

Isak lunges at Even - literally _lunges_ \- and he kisses him like he’s been off to war for months or years even, and like Even is the solution to his every problems, and they’re both really pretty drenched from the unforgiving rain outside, because apparently it rains in Chicago in the middle of August - but Even doesn’t care; he pulls Isak into a run down to their hotel just a few blocks away from the theater, and they’ve received unsubtle glares from the concierge when they all but run up the stairs with squelching shoes, not even bothering with the elevator, and Even hopes, for the briefest moment, that the crash he’s heard isn’t his newly-bought guitar toppling over, and their teeth keep clashing together, and still, it’s quite possibly the best kiss of Even’s life.

**x**

It is also Chicago that has Even in a sketchy tattoo parlor with Eva and Isak at two in the morning.

“We’re going to get a matching tattoo!” Isak all but screamed when Even caught the both of them trying to sneak out of the room. Isak’s tipsy; Even knows because he watches him finish the bottle of champagne with – _surprise surprise_ – a similarly tipsy Eva. It was an hour after they left the theater and the whole entourage just came back to the hotel and everyone’s still so pumped after the show that they decided to have a little afterparty in Jonas and Eva’s room. Of course, an afterparty for Eva is chugging alcohol straight from the bottle, and apparently, that’s Isak’s thing too, so here they are.

“You’re not a couple though,” Even said slowly, and Isak would find it condescending and call him out on it if he is not high. Even made a mental note that he has a bone to pick with Mikael and Jonas who took advantage and pulled Isak for a smoke while Even was in the bathroom. “And if you want a matching tattoo, shouldn’t you be getting one with, oh I don’t know, _me_?”

“But we’re soulmates,” Isak whined. Beside him, Eva nodded solemnly. Even rolled his eyes at her and turned to look back at his pouting boy.

“You talk to her less times than you talk to me, baby,” Even reasoned patiently.

Isak looked at him for a second, considering. Even is suddenly feeling hopeful. “You can hold my hand while we get it,” Isak placated, and even in his drunk and high state, he managed to make it sound as if it’s the most reasonable compromise and Even had no other choice but to agree.

Even sighed heavenward. Defeated, he took the car keys out of his back pocket and heard Isak and Eva squeal at the sight of it. 

Even is so easy with this boy.

“You’re so easy.” Eva’s teasing voice was soft, but in the almost empty parking lot of the hotel, it rang loud and clear. Isak didn't hear; right as the elevator opens to the lobby, he skipped ahead of them, humming _August_ under his breath while trying to guess which is Even’s (or the band’s (semantics)) rented car. He settled on a black Range Rover and leaned on it, looking at Even in question. Even shook his head in response. Isak frowned and turned his head at the other parked cars.

“Look at him,” Even said. It is not really an answer, he knows, but it sounds perfectly logical to his ears.

Isak stood in front of a grey Ford Ranger and looked at it in contemplation.

“We’re just happy you’re okay,” Eva said, flicking her eyes to Isak and then back to Even. 

Even raised his brows. “We?”

Eva rolled her eyes. “Of course, dummy. We’re all happy for you. You got really lucky.”

“Yeah, I did,” he agreed easily and whistled at Isak. “Here’s your ride, baby,” he called.

Isak squealed in delight as Even opened the passenger door of a white Jeep Wrangler.

**x**

In the end, he manages to convince Isak not to get a matching tattoo with Eva, but _I_ will _be getting a tattoo Even, that’s non-negotiable,_ and Even knows that alright, thank you very much.

While Eva talks to the tattoo artist who Even thinks is the most heavily-tattooed person he has ever seen, Isak and Even sit on the bench and Even patiently listens as Isak blabbers about his other tattoos. He’s already got four in total.

“This is my first tattoo,” Isak explains, and Even absentmindedly runs his fingers to the side of Isak’s wrist, where the word ‘ _jeofaile_ ’ is embedded.

“What does it mean?” he humors him.

“Um. It’s silly, I’ll explain later,” Isak says. He’s still slurring a bit. “Anyway, I got it in the Philippines, I think.” His eyebrows furrow and his nose scrunches in confusion, as if he’s not sure of what he just said, but then he shrugs and says, “This one,” he points to the elephant tattoo on the inside of his left ankle, “I got from Thailand. I rode one, and it’s one of the biggest regrets of my life. They’re exploited, Even. Don’t ever ride an elephant, okay? Promise me.”

Isak looks deadly serious. Even smiles fondly. “I promise,” he says dutifully.

“Good,” Isak says, seemingly satisfied with Even’s answer. “I have a small lion on my back. Got it from Singapore. It’s their national animal.”

“I can sense a pattern here,” Even muses.

“Yeah. And it’s also my spirit animal. I’m a leo, so win-win,” he explains. “Um, my boyfriend – well, my ex-boyfriend was the one who chose the design.”

Isak looks at him pointedly and Even raises his eyebrow. “Sounds like a pretentious dweeb.”

“Hey,” Isak softly whines and playfully slaps him in the chest. He then points to the rainbow dots on his left upper arm. “I got this next, in Taiwan. It’s my favorite.”

“I like it. LGBT represent,” Even quips.

Isak hums in agreement, then says, “Did you know that Taiwan is the first South East Asian country which legalizes same sex marriage? I got it a month after they passed the law.”

“That’s a nice commemoration,” he comments.

Isak snorts. “You’d think,” he says. “That’s what I tell myself and people why I got it. I was drunk when I had it, see, and drunk me’s reason why I got it is because the hotel I stayed in in Taiwan is called Rainbow Hotel.”

Isak says it with the most embarrassed look. Even likes him so much.

“It’s my favorite, too,” he tells Isak. Isak smiles at him dopily.

“So what’s it going to be?” The buff guy speaks up, and Even has forgotten that there’s a six foot person standing in front of them, he’s forgotten that anybody else beside Isak existed at all, actually. 

He’s just so enraptured by the boy, but that’s not new news at all anymore. 

In the corner, he can see Eva follow the other tattoo artist inside a dark room.

Isak stands and starts flipping through the design book on the counter.

“Ask him. He’s picking my tattoo,” Isak says, pointing at Even. He isn’t looking at him, so he doesn’t see the surprised look on Even’s face.

“Are you sure, baby?” he says.

“Yeah, I trust you,” Isak says, nonchalant. 

After a minute of deep contemplation, Even nods to the buff guy and starts sketching.

In the end, Even finds that he doesn’t really need to sketch. He finished the design in less than five minutes.

“Do you wanna see?” Even says, holding the paper to Isak. 

Isak shakes his head with a knowing glint in his eyes. “No. I want it to be a surprise.”

“Where do you want it?” Buff guy asks.

Even looks at Isak, but Isak’s already looking back at him expectantly.

He braves it. “I was thinking here,” he says quietly as he holds his palm to Isak’s chest, directly where his heart is.

The smile Isak releases is nothing but fond. “I think that’s perfect,” he says just as quietly.

Even holds Isak’s hand throughout the process, even though it only took Buff guy less than 10 minutes to finish. 

“Does it hurt?” he asks as he watches Buff guy – _Andrei_ – stick the needle on Isak’s skin repeatedly.

Isak shakes his head no. “There’s not much shading,” Isak observes. “That’s what makes it painful. But now, I can feel that there’s only an outline, so it only kinda tickles.”

Isak’s nose crunches as he says it. Even can’t help but to kiss him.

Just as they break apart, Andrei announces that he’s done.

Isak stands and slowly walks to the mirror. Even follows him and stands behind him, gauging Isak’s reaction. Isak’s looking at his reflection with not much reaction passing through his face for quite a long time, and Even is starting to sweat, and _fuck it’s too sentimental isn’t it holy shit did I just ruin this already -_

But then Isak catches his eyes on the mirror and reaches out for Even’s hand. Even immediately holds his out and tangles their fingers together.

_21:21_

“Your first words to me,” Even starts to explain, his voice quiet. “At the bar. Remember? I asked for the time, and you answered me. 21:21.”

“I remember,” Isak says softly. “I love it, thank you.”

“Yeah? Even if it’s not Chicago-related? I kinda broke your pattern, I’m sorry.”

Isak turns to him and shakes his head no. “I don’t mind,” Isak appeases. “I love it. It’s perfect, baby.”

Andrei releases a cough. “I still need to patch it up, kid.”

Isak doesn’t let go of Even’s hand as he goes back to the chair.

Andrei starts explaining how to properly take care of it, but Even knows Isak isn’t listening. He’s still staring at their reflection in the mirror, and they’re sharing the same look in their faces.

This time, he knows. It’s mutual.

They’re mildly, blindly, wildly in love.

**x**

Back at the hotel, Eva all but runs out of the car, excited to show the others her new tattoo. Even was so consumed by Isak that he has not even checked what Eva’s choice was, but relief rushes through his whole body when she all but lifts her shirt and on her side hip is a minimalistic drawing of a crossed drumstick. 

Eva gives a rather sloppy kiss to both Isak and Even’s cheeks, and Even can vaguely smell beer from her mouth. It was her first time getting a tattoo, and the buzzing sound of the tattoo gun sobered her up right away, so right after leaving the tattoo parlor, she asked Even to pull to the nearest convenience store and buy her something to calm her nerves. Her nerves were calmed, alright, but her buzz was back and high.

A little while later, after Isak has blown him as a reward for holding Isak’s hand like he promised, they lay tangled up in sheets. The room is tinted a dark purple, and Isak’s asking questions.

“What is it about?”

Even doesn’t have to ask to know what he’s asking about. He sighs deep. “Isak.”

“Come on,” Isak says and rests his chin over his fist above Even’s chest. Even reaches over and swipes the curl falling on his face. “Come on, Even, humor me.”

Even takes a long drag of his cigarette, blows it away from Isak’s face, and says, “It’s about a boy.”

Isak hums and nods in understanding. “Tell me more about him.”

“I thought you’re interested in the song?” 

Even is stalling, and Isak can read him like an open book. He rolls his eyes.

“It is _his_ song, isn’t it?”

“It’s _our_ song,” Even amends silently.

“Semantics,” Isak says. “Back to the boy. Were you in love?” He drags the word _love._

“He breathes so fucking loud,” is what Even says.

He expects a chuckle, but what he heard is - “It’s reminiscent.”

“It’s supposed to be. I wrote it after we broke up.”

“And? What does he think about it?” Isak asks quietly.

“He hated it,” Even says and laughs. “Thought it was pretentious as fuck.”

“Maybe he hated it because you mentioned that he breathes so loud.”

“Maybe,” Even says. “But I also mentioned that he’s sweet, so.”

“Maybe he hates the fact that the song’s constructed like he’s just become a memory for you, something you sing about but never sing to anymore.”

“It’s affectionately recalling the whole relationship without getting trapped in the same songwriting cliches that songs like that tend to fall into, and it’s just perfect, see, because he may deny it all he wants but he’s kind of a pretentious fuck, too.”

Silence, and then - “You look happy playing it.”

“Thinking about him makes me happy,” Even admits.

“Sappy fuck,” Isak groans. “Ugh. I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”

Even laughs. “You asked for it.”

“Whatever,” Isak grumbles.

Even gives him a pointed, incredulous look. “Are you actually jealous right now?”

“Yes, and what about it?” Isak responds haughtily.

Even guffaws.

Later, he feels Isak starting to rise from the bed. Even moves fast - he’s ready this time. He pulls Isak’s arms and holds him closer to his chest. “You’re not going anywhere,” he whispers.

Isak laughs.

“Okay,” Isak says easily. And that’s not exactly what Even expects. 

“Okay,” he repeats, and somehow, he believes him. For some reason, Even does. 

He believes that when Isak says he’s not leaving, he’s not leaving. 

So he left it at that.

**x**

Isak left.

And that’s that for Chicago.

**x**

El Paso is bitter, and Even’s crooning _Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole_ under his breath all throughout the journey _._

**x**

Albuquerque is sad, and the mirror in the backstage bathroom is broken. 

It looks like it was shattered deliberately; by what, Even has no idea. It seems like a small miracle that the fragments are still attached together in their frame, providing distorted reflections in the harsh neon green light. His own face stares back and it looks like he’s looking through a kaleidoscope, and it makes Even feel loopy. 

He can hear the wild thrum right on the other side of the door - the loud reggae music cranking everybody’s mood right up, and it pours in from under the cracks. Over the roar of the music and hazy chatter that he cannot make out of, Mikael is pounding on the door with an _Even for fuck’s sake you’ve been there for half an hour I needed to piss like five minutes ago, man!,_ and the hazy chatter sounds like a happy chatter and everyone’s all happy because they are celebrating, see, because they’ve been on the road for one month now and Eskild still hasn’t popped a vein and Eva has lost only two pairs of drumsticks and those were not even her favorites and it has been a month and no one has attempted to murder each other yet. They’re celebrating something big and monumental as a band, but they’re celebrating small victories too. 

Even blocks all of it as he stares at himself in the mirror for a long time. It’s very cinematic, he muses, the way that he drinks his own face, looking for any sort of familiarity. Even after almost a month under the August sun, his Norwegian skin is still pale, albeit blotchy, and he’s always got bags under his eyes but they’re darker now because he hasn’t slept well since Chicago. He’s got a few hickeys fading on the base of his throat from that damn Chicago night, and he’s wearing Isak’s sweater because he took Even’s before leaving the hotel room while Even was asleep, _before leaving Even in Chicago -_ and he hates that everything goes back to Chicago because that’s where he chose to be romantic but that’s also where Isak chose to be adventurous.

Even sees himself in the mirror, and he’s well aware that he’s being too dramatic but at least the mirror looks more shattered than he is. Small victories.

Isak has been absent for a week, and Isak’s the sun, see, and Even hasn’t seen the sun in a week, and the sun gets cold during the winter, but it’s in the middle of August, and it doesn’t rain in Albuquerque in the middle of August unlike Chicago, but Even is still cold all over.

Even plays _October_ in the empty theater when everybody has packed up and moved the party to the hotel, when all that’s left are empty seats and dirty traces of one's mess and pity.

**x**

Phoenix is angry. Phoenix is him singing _Cold_. 

It is an angry song but it’s okay, because Isak is still not here.

And Even thrills with the way his body thrums as he sings about _hating the fact that every song he writes is about him, and he can’t even complain because his words wouldn’t sound the same without him, and they’re just playing safe now and it makes sense but he hates that it makes too much damn sense and_ Even _is so cold._

He’s just so, so cold now.

**x**

Las Vegas is him deciding not to sing along to _Darling,_ letting Eva take the lead vocal as he focuses on the guitar because Isak is back but Even is still bitter.

He’s also dramatic; he admits that wholeheartedly now, so he makes sure to hold Isak’s gaze as the song shifts from quiet longing to pleading desperation and it’s so, so perfect to what he is feeling - to what he is, that he forgoes his initial decision and sings the part about asking him to _not leave, to not go, to just stay for a moment, and he knows he’s just dreaming and the sun will betray him, but honey, please stay,_ he begs, _and ask that he’ll be okay, and tell him that good things last forever because_ he knows _lying makes it better but darling,_ Isak _,_ love, Even _is bound to fall, but will you still love him? Will you still love him then?_

The audience eats it up, and Even can distinctly remember doing an interview about this song when it was newly released and Jonas described the rhythmic in and out as deliberate to make it feel as if the person listening has been awoken from a dream, and Even resonates with the sentiment stronger than ever because he’s been feeling like he's in a dream state for quite a while now, and now he’s falling, and now he’s waking up.

His heart is beating erratically, and for once he does not fall right into Isak’s arms after the show because right when Eva introduces the band for the last time tonight, Even runs. For the first time in a long time, he’s the one running. And he knows he’s being really too dramatic now, but God, he just wants everything to stop for a second, just a second to recalibrate and think about anything else, anything other than the green-eyed boy who consumes him, and he really is a wildfire, Even realizes, and he’s burned, and he is still burning, but Even has had enough of that now; he just wants quiet now, except -

Except what he gets is an AirBnB jumping with activity, with the lights dim except for a 70’s disco light ball hanging overhead, cascading colors of red, orange, yellow, green and blue all over the room, and the whole place is packed to the brim. There are people everywhere, and all of their roadies are present; he can see Elias manning some sort of a portable DJ booth and some groupies that Even vaguely recognizes are doing shots in the corner. It’s so hot inside and he’s immediately sweaty and there are people kissing him and patting him on the back and handing him shots left and right.

His bandmates and Eskild and Yousef and even Sana are present, and they are all huddled on the couch talking animatedly with one another and in the middle of all the chaos is Isak who is already looking at Even even before Even is looking back at him, and he is smiling so big with his shiny emerald eyes crinkled and his perfect gap-tooth showing. It’s Isak who is doing this to show he is sorry for leaving; it’s Isak who is grabbing his hand and pulling him onto his lap, gripping Even’s waist like he never has any intention to let go; it’s Isak who is so painfully oblivious of Even’s inner anguish and misery and Even hates him so, so much but he’s so, so in love with him too. It’s Isak who comes and goes whenever he wants; Isak, who never stays. Isak who always leaves.

But it’s also Isak, and as Even presses his lips against his torment and salvation, just like that, he knows that there’s no need for any other explanation. There’s no need for space, and there’s no more reason to think.

It’s Isak.


	3. but there’s the realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Isak is kissing a still laughing Even, then he’s licking Even’s mouth, lips, and face and it’s disgusting, really - Isak slobbering all over him like a goddamn dog, in the middle of the supermarket, no less, but it’s a very playful kiss, a very fun kiss, and they were asked to leave a few minutes later, but it’s okay because - how did he put it again, that one night in Chicago? 
> 
> They’re mildly, wildly, blindly in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ft. bad romance, a strawberry and sticky supermarket kisses
> 
> Song:
> 
> Next to You - John Vincent III

And then finally, they’re in California. 

Even fucking hates California.

“I fucking hate California,” Even mutters.

He has not been having the best week, see. It’s the weather, Eskild says, and Even might as well agree. It has been sweltering hot during the day and pouring rain at night and Even’s skin just feels so irritated, like something’s crawling under it all the time. His mood is sour and his skin itches and _I’m a winter baby, damn it, Eskild, leave me alone, I’m allowed to be grumpy!_ In a weather like this, Eskild says it’s quite easy to get a cold, so he’s fussing over them more than the usual and even doubles the dosage of the band’s vitamin intakes. Even rolls his eyes but does as he’s told, and he makes it a point of taking the damn pills while holding Eskild’s chilly gaze out of spite because he’s petty like that.

So maybe it is the weather, but maybe it’s just fucking California.

It doesn’t help the fact that they’re doing five shows in the damn state, and that’s two weeks of the tour and _why the fuck did they even book five shows in California, honestly?_ It’s so humid and there’s always people everywhere and the valleys are nothing compared to Norwegian fjords, but nothing can really compare to Norwegian fjords, Even thinks, and it’s so polluted and noisy and Even just wants silence, for once in his goddamn life.

He hears Jonas and Mikael snort, trailing behind him as they head back to the bus after sound check. The San Diego show is one of their biggest, with a sold out show in a theater having a capacity of over five thousand people. Everyone’s rightfully pumped and excited, and Even is profusely sweating.

The whole entourage must have caught on that Even is in a bit of a mood, or maybe it’s because he heard Yousef telling them to back off a little bit because _Even has a personal vendetta with California for some reason_ , and some groupies are giving him a wary look, and he understands them because ‘happy’ is his usual state, but he’s thankful for the space because everyone is kind of keeping distance from him; even the rest of his bandmates know not to engage into a conversation with him. 

They don’t bother hiding their mirth about Even’s _pain_ , though.

The thing is, Even is annoyed and he’s tired and he just wants to sulk in his bunk bed and maybe jerk off a little bit until show time.

All plans fly out of the window when he enters the bus and finds Isak sitting on the couch in the front lounge, and he looks devastatingly expensive. With high cheekbones and pursed cupid bow and sharp eyes and skin that looks mighty golden in the afternoon sun, Isak is sporting a crisp white button up rolled up that hints his rainbow tattoo, black tight trousers and shiny leather shoes. There’s a certain softness about him though, because he's _Isak_ , and he always looks soft for some reason, but there’s also a certain glow around him right now. He is such a contradiction with his sharp clothes and soft edges, and he looks so comfortable having a conversation with Yousef and Elias and his left arm is on Eva’s lap as she and Noora paint his nails with neon pink nail polish, and he looks just like he belong right here.

Just like that, Even’s mood is lifted. It’s because ‘happy’ is his usual state, he tries to reason out with himself, but he knows it’s not that. It’s not that at all.

“God fuck it’s hot out there!” he hears Magnus say behind him before he receives an unwarranted slap in the back. Even doesn’t know the guy well enough, but ever since Texas, he noticed the perky blonde shadowing the perkier blonde Vilde, and he hasn’t left the picture since. They’ve only conversed once or twice, but Magnus did mention in passing that he won a hotdog eating contest with him being the only kid competitor and Even had decided right then and there that he likes him.

Jonas, Mikael and Magnus take a seat, hustling Elias in the process, but Even remains standing by the door, and the humidity is infiltrating the cold temperature of the bus, but he does not care because Isak finally notices him and they are now having some sort of a stare down.

“Hey Even, have you met Isak? He’s Vilde’s newly recruited groupie,” Magnus pipes.

Even raises his eyebrow, suddenly amused.

“Is that so?”

Isak nods solemnly.

“I’m your groupie now.”

Then he raises his free arm towards Even, his eyes full of mirth. Even complies, finally moving as he steps in front of him, and Even presses a soft kiss on top of Isak’s hand. He hears Noora’s _careful, it’s still wet!_ protest in the background but Even ignores it as he carelessly throws himself in between and wiggles in Isak’s space. Even takes Isak’s still wet fingernails and blows on it. Isak smiles dopily at him. _Hello, love,_ his eyes seem to communicate.

For a second, everything is silent.

“Huh?” Magnus says, breaking the peaceful ambiance. “What - _huh?_ ”

“What?” Even raises his eyebrows at him, still blowing.

Magnus’ eyebrows are furrowed in confusion. “Do you two know each other or is that how we welcome groupies now? Because that’s definitely not how you guys welcomed me.”

And that’s because Elias set up some sort of an initiation process for Magnus where he would only be “welcomed” on the condition that he challenge Victor, the band’s seven foot handler in another hotdog eating contest.

Magnus disappeared two days after that and the next time Even saw him was on the third day, and he was still looking a little bit green.

“That’s Isak,” Jonas pipes in, slower than normal.

“Yeah?” Magnus says, completely oblivious. He leans closer to Yousef’s space and whispers, “Wasn’t that what I just said?”

“Even’s Isak, you slow fuck,” Elias deadpans.

Magnus’ eyes widen comically.

“Even’s Isak! You’re Isak! _Fy faen!_ Hi, I’m Magnus!”

Jonas rolls his eyes in exasperation and Elias thwacks him on the head.

Argument starts in the background just as Even hears Isak mumbles, “Even’s Isak,” and it was spoken so softly, seemingly only for Even to hear. He looks proper shy this time, and it is not the usual coy he pulls, no ma'am.

Isak is actually refusing to look at him.

Isak is _pink_.

 _Interesting_.

“My Isak,” Even says, eyes trained on Isak as he watches – _anticipates_ \- for a reaction.

Isak finally looks at him, and his once bright green eyes are now black with lust. 

“Yours,” he whispers.

Suddenly, all Even sees is Isak, as if his vision tunnels down and the rest is all blurry, and at the very end of it is Isak’s face. The sound of his voice warms him to the core, the scent of his perfume making his heart race and the touch of his hand sends tingles down his spine.

Somewhere in the background, Even vaguely hears Jonas’ _aaa_ _and that’s our cue to leave_ and starts pushing Magnus out of the bus who is loudly protesting with _but why! I haven’t properly talked to Isak yet!_

He also discerns Elias’ deadpan, _they’re going to fuck, idiot._

He vaguely catches Mikael complains, _But it’s hot out._

His ears strain to hear Noora’s _be_ _safe, boys_ quip and Eva’s smartass _d_ _on’t do things I wouldn’t do_ tease. 

The last thing he hears is Jonas’ plea of _p_ _lease clean up after, and please for the love of anything holy, don’t do it in my bed_ \- 

And then he pounces.

**x**

“I fucking love California!” Even shouts to the mic, and the crowd goes crazy.

He hears Jonas and Mikael snort despite the noise, but he ignores them. He looks sideways where Isak stands. He finds him already staring back, lips darker than normal for how hard he bites it in an attempt to conceal his smile.

Even wants to bite, too, so even when Mikael starts the first notes of the next song, he runs to Isak and takes his bite.

**x**

The second Eskild pushes play and Lady Gaga comes on, the tour bus is a bedlam.

Even finds himself in a mass of sweaty bodies, jumping and grinding and singing along to _I want your love and all your lover’s revenge_ , and his shirt gets soaked through by Magnus’ beer from jumping too much and Mikael is wearing his most obnoxious sheer floral shirt, Vilde is trying to braid Noora’s hair with glow sticks of all things, and there are neon lights everywhere and the whole bus is on _fire_ Even feels so alive he could die.

“Lower the volume down, Eskild!” Yousef yells up from the front of the bus. Even can see an amused Sana behind him. “Fuck’s sake. You’re the tour manager, you should be responsible for all of this!”

“It’s _Lady Gaga_ ,” Isak argues, like it solves everything. It probably does.

“Damn right it’s Gaga! _Rah-rah-rah!_ ” Magnus shouts, hanging his arms around Isak’s shoulders and Even laughs at how Isak scrunches his nose when he takes a whiff of Magnus’ beer breath.

Yousef only sighs in defeat and retreats back to the front. The party never wavered and everybody’s spirits are high and palpable. Somewhere behind Even is Eva murmuring, “Bathroom in five,” to Jonas and Even wishes that he only imagined it when Jonas squeezes her ass when she stood. 

There’s laughter bouncing off of the four corners of the bus and the music pours in for hours on end, and when it all finally dwindles down after midnight, all that’s left is a messy bus, Elias and Eskild spooning on the couch, Sana resting her head on Yousef’s shoulder and Isak sitting down against the wall with Even’s head on his lap. Noora is setting up her laptop because Magnus knows a brilliant Friends drinking game, so that’s how they spend the rest of the night, taking a shot whenever all six characters are together or two when Joey mentions sex and three whenever Chandler says “could I BE…” or a waterfall when Ross is annoying. 

Ross is always annoying; they end up getting stupid drunk stupid fast.

**x**

At two in the morning - because good things happen at two in the morning too, contrary to what Ted Mosby says, Even makes a proposition.

“If you drive us to LA,” he says, throwing his cigarette butt on the ground and steps on it before picking it up and throwing it inside the bus. It’s his second smoke for the night, and he and Isak are outside, leaning against the bus while the rest are already dead asleep inside. “I’ll give you a road head.”

It sounds like a pretty good proposition to his ears, a very promising one, in fact, but when he finally looks at Isak, he’s frowning at him.

“What?” he says, sounding a bit defensive. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, baby,” Even slurs. “And it’s Saturday – well Sunday, now.”

“But, Even.”

Even stares at him challengingly. _But?_

Isak rolls his eyes and mutters, “I don’t know how to drive.”

“What?"

Even heard, alright, but he just wants to hear it again, and Isak looks so cute looking so grumpy. 

Isak’s glare intensifies. “I don’t know how to drive, Even.”

A moment, then – Even laughs. “Oh, baby,” he teases and kisses the frown away from his lips before pulling him to his body. “What are we going to do with you, hmm?” he whispers in his temple.

“Take me home, asshole,” Isak sighs into Even’s neck, and Even has decided that San Diego’s not so bad after all.

**x**

In the end, Even’s too drunk to drive, so they spent the night away inside the car parked right behind a large garbage bin, and it is well-hidden in the back alley of a 7-eleven and another small corner shop next to it. It’s a good spot to hide, and Even realizes Isak has deliberately chosen the place as he rides Even slowly in the back seat, releasing the filthiest moans and whimpers.

At five in the morning, the sun hasn’t risen yet, the sky merely lightening to a pale pink, and Even decides that he’s good enough to drive while Isak rests his head against the cool window. Even rolls the window down and the fuzzy white dice hanging on the mirror swings back and forth in the cool breeze that whipped through the car as they leave San Diego, and for a while he notices the shadows grow longer and darker ahead of the car and witnesses with his very eyes how the sceneries change in an unimaginable speed.

The sun rises an hour later, and it’s filling the sky with shades of orange and pink and peach and amber, and it’s radiating hope in Even’s chest, because it’s just so beautiful, but it doesn’t even in the slightest compare when a sunbeam hits Isak’s face just right.

**x**

Los Angeles is seeing Isak crack for the first time.

“I texted Eskild. Told him I kidnapped his vocalist,” Isak tells Even later, his eyes trained on his phone. “He replied _‘can’t kidnap him when he goes willingly'._ ” Isak chuckles and mutters _true._ His phone pings again. “' _Also, you can bite, but not too much. I need him back in one piece'._ ” Isak groans. “That was one time, for God’s sake, Eskild.”

“You can’t blame him. You do bite,” Even says.

“Whatever,” Isak says with a roll of his eyes. “Hey, do you have a hotel booked for LA or is it a bunk bed this time?”

Even looks at him. “You’re not serious.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t want to show me your flat.”

Isak’s silent for a moment. “Do you want to see my flat?”

“Why, of course!” Even says, his voice a little bit too loud in the small compartment of the car. “Unless - are you married?”

Isak gives him an unimpressed look.

“Are you involved in anything illegal?” Even barrels on and then dramatically gasps. “Are you a mobster?”

When Isak laughs, so does Even. “You’re ridiculous, Even Bech Næsheim.”

“I know,” he says and smiles sweetly at Isak. “Address, please.”

That conversation was half an hour ago, and now they’re silent as the GPS just informed him that they’ve already arrived at their destination. And their destination is what seems to be one of the buildings that can easily be featured in those Architectural Digest magazines that Noora is so fond of reading.

He remains mum when one of the concierge greets them with a “Good morning, Mr. Valtersen,” and Isak only nods before heading straight to the elevator.

The whole elevator ride is spent in silence as he feels Isak getting more and more tense beside him. When the elevator opens, he does not comment on how the whole floor opens to a single hallway with only a few doors, indicating exclusivity, and Isak proceeds to open one of them, ushering Even to enter what is probably the biggest apartment he’s ever been in.

It’s so spacious, because there’s almost nothing in it, Even soon realizes. The floor is a high polished concrete, dark and free of clutter, and the walls are white and bare. The curtains are also white, but it’s the kind that is untouched by hands and devoid of dust. There is a huge grey couch smack dab in the middle of the living room and a simple coffee table, but that’s it; there’s no television, no dining table, no indoor plants.

He can feel Isak’s eyes on him as he walks around the uncomfortably large living room, and Even goes straight to the wall completely filled with books perfectly aligned, and everything is too impersonal that he has to close his eyes for a moment and remembers a place where massive piles of books are spilled out of the bookshelves, covering most of the floor space. Isak’s eyes burn on his neck as Even’s gaze lingers on one framed certificate placed haphazardly on the floor instead of hanging on the wall.

Even scans for a personal touch, something that doesn’t suggest a hired designer chose it, but there is nothing. There are no personal photographs, and the place looks like it is staged for sale. It looks pristine and posh, but it is cold in its tranquility. 

This apartment is obviously not well-lived, Even thinks as he takes it all in, and he is silently begging to know why.

It is quiet for quite some time. Finally, Isak is the one who breaks the silence.

“Do you, um, do you want something to drink?” he says timidly.

Even looks back and sees him standing at the edge of what seems to be the biggest sofa he’s ever laid his eyes on, and he looks the most boyish he’s ever seen him, with Even’s ratty, faded shirt on his back which he changed into the night before because right when Magnus spilled the beer on Even’s shirt, Isak drunkenly pulled him to his chest for a kiss and stained his white button up in the process. His hair is disheveled from their late night activities, and despite looking ethereal, Even can see that he is a bit worn out.

Isak has never looked so out of place.

“I want to take you to bed,” Even decides, taking mercy upon his lover. Isak does not bother hiding the absolute relief in his eyes.

He then holds out his hand for Even to take.

And Even did take.

**x**

Hours later, Isak finds him in the kitchen.

“Even?” he says, sleep dust still in his eyes. “Come back to bed, baby.”

“No, Isak, I’m not coming back to bed,” he says. “And neither are you.”

“But baby-”

“-I wanted to make you breakfast, see, because I figured you’d be hungry.”

Even’s stern tone confuses a still half-asleep half-awake Isak. “Okay? Then cook breakfast.”

Even looks at him pointedly. “There’s absolutely nothing in this kitchen, Isak.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. _Oh."_ Even sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Get your ass up. We’re doing groceries.”

The grumpy face that Even is so used to by now makes its timely appearance, but in context, it isn’t a look of upset. It is pure fondness in Isak’s own way. Even’s heart pinches as he watches.

“Fine,” Isak grumbles. “Can I at least have some coffee first?”

Even is handing him a mug even before he finishes that sentence.

**x**

They end up having brunch in a restobar nearby Isak’s flat. It was a nice restaurant, except their waitress keeps on giving Even the baudiest glances, and Isak looks seconds away from _pulling an Eva_ and going berserk over the girl.

To say that Even is enjoying this ordeal is a whole lot of an understatement.

“Kiss me,” Isak demands, sending another death glare over the bar counter where the girl is unashamedly staring. Even gives him a chaste kiss just to annoy him.

“More,” Isak whines.

Even sighs, smiles, and happily complies.

When they finally get the bill, Isak made it so painfully obvious that he has his hands on Even’s thighs, and he’s rubbing slowly, _up and down, up and down_ , and the poor girl’s finally caught on and leaves their table tomato red, and Even’s not sure if he wants to berate Isak or if he wants to drag him to the bathroom and berate him in the way they’d both enjoy.

The latter wins, of course.

When they finally leave the restobar a good fifteen minutes later, the girl is noticeably absent from her post, Even is red, and Isak is looking one smug son of a bitch.

**x**

The strawberry Isak picks is huge and it is perfectly red, and Even, for the briefest moment, is transported back to those summers spent in his grandmother’s farm in Spain when he was a little kid.

It was such a sweet, innocent memory, but then Isak starts sucking it while maintaining eye contact, and all thoughts about his poor grandmother flew out of the window and into Pluto.

“We’re in the supermarket,” Even hisses.

“So?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Isak."

"No, Even, as a matter of fact I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Isak says haughtily.

“I can’t take you anywhere,” Even sighs.

“Again, I don’t know what you’re-” He stops, because the strawberry juice spills and escapes his lips, and Even laughs at him, but he also reaches over and wipes his thumb across Isak’s mouth.

“I feel sticky now,” Isak complains. “Hey, you know what removes stickiness?”

“What?”

“Saliva,” Isak says offhandedly, and Even chokes on air.

“Yeah? Who told you that?”

“No one, but I am a lawyer, Even. I know things.”

Even laughs, because Isak is so ridiculous, and Even is ridiculously in love with him. “Well, since Atty. Valtersen says so, then maybe it’s true.”

“It _is_ true. Look.” 

Then Isak is kissing a still laughing Even, then he’s licking Even’s mouth, lips, and face and it’s disgusting, really - Isak slobbering all over him like a goddamn dog in the middle of the supermarket, no less, but it’s a very playful kiss, a very fun kiss, and they were asked to leave a few minutes later, but it’s okay because - how did he put it again, that one night in Chicago? 

They’re mildly, wildly, blindly in love.

**x**

Isak picks up the wine glass in front of him, stares at it for a second as he swirls slowly, and finally takes a sip.

“Yuck.”

Across him, Even laughs.

It’s dinnertime now, and the afternoon was spent under the Los Angeles sun, and it was still humid and sweat was literally trickling down Even’s temple as they walk down the artsy avenues which Isak guaranteed Even would love because _you’re a pretentious hipster and I don’t know what that says about me because I like you but I don’t care_ and his hands were sweaty but Isak still held it, intertwined his fingers with it, and Even has decided that he doesn’t care, too.

They only entered the most hipster-looking stores and Even took advantage to shop. He picked the most random things, and Isak told him that he’s a weirdo, but Even was quick to explain that everyone in the band has a thing, see, like how Mikael sticks to an all-black ensemble on stage but wears the most ridiculous lesbian shirts out of it, or how Eva can never be seen without a bandana wrapped around her head and Jonas’ old plaid shirt around her waist, and Jonas has this 'iconic' old combat boots that has at least a hundred miles on them, but that's not true at all and they all call him out on it every chance they get and tells him that he’s a farce because Jonas actually hates walking and he has a very different kind of method of “breaking them down” to instil some sort of authenticity, and it involves throwing the poor, new boots on the wall and rubbing them on asphalt, and _seriously_ , what a pretentious faker.

“And you? What’s your thing?”

Even has no original thing, is the thing. Over time, he just sorts of adapt to each of his bandmates’ quirks, like how his closet is a tad bit colorful now because of the floral shirts he’s getting accustomed to seeing, or how he steals some of Eva’s bandana and it irks Eva to no end, _but_ he refuses to adapt anything about Jonas’ quirks because he still dresses like a teenager and his life choices is quite shit in general - sans dating Eva, of course.

Isak gasps, scandalized as something in him clicks. “Wait a second. The American flag bandana. That was Eva’s?”

Even only nods in shame.

They left the shop with bags on Even's arms and a mildly-disgusted looking Isak in tow.

**x**

By ten, they are back in the flat with a carton of eggs, a tub of sour cream and a Tropicana orange juice box for breakfast tomorrow morning.

They take turns with Isak’s toothbrush because Even refuses to rub his teeth with his finger, and Isak complains because _for fuck’s sake, Even, your finger is not the dirtiest thing you’ve ever had in your mouth, why are you being so prissy right now_ and Even’s quick to retort _of course, how can I forget, I just swallowed your come down my throat seven hours ago_ and Isak’s _t_ _hat was nine hours ago, smartass_ quip sounds so pathetic and weak to both of their ears.

It was after a rematch of what happened _nine hours ago_ that Even finds himself tracing Isak’s _‘jeofaile’_ tattoo.

“ _I am in an error. I have failed_ ,” he whispers and then meets Isak’s eyes. “Why?”

“ _Even_.”

“Humor me, baby, come on,” he urges, echoing Isak’s earlier sentiment said to him.

Isak sighs and takes a long time before answering, “It’s an incentive for me to finish law school,” he says. “I never really wanted to be a lawyer.”

Even hums, contemplative. “What do you want to be?”

Isak pushes Even so he lies on his back, presses his curled fist on Even’s chest and rests his chin on it. “Guess,” he says in a playful tone, and he’s deflecting, Even knows, but he humors him nonetheless.

“A groupie,” he wits, and Isak releases the most magical laugh.

Even is not done asking his questions, though. “But how is that an incentive for law school? Why _jeofaile_?”

“Because it’s a French legal phrase.”

Even thinks about it, and he’s not satisfied, so he says, “You know for a lawyer, you’re quite unresponsive to the question, counsel.”

Isak rolls his eyes, pauses for a moment, and then -

“Because,” he breathes, as if bracing himself, “Because I’m a proud person, and this is me basically lowering my pride, but the thing is . . . _the thing is,_ accepting flaws takes a lot from a proud person, see, and somehow it makes me feel like I’m brave and I’m courageous because if you really think about it, the mere admittance of failure really does take a lot of courage and bravery.

And I remember this certain person literally laughing at my face and telling me that I’ve basically proudly admitted that I’m a failure and have the audacity to proclaim it to the world perpetually through my arm, and I was so mad, and I cried for days, and I kept on thinking _you don’t fucking understand; you understand nothing_ , because he really doesn’t! Because ‘I have failed’ is just really a mere definition found on Google or whatever French dictionary, but for me _jeofaile_ is more than that. It’s an admittance, it’s an acceptance of the fact that at some certain points in my life, I have failed, but that does not make me a failure, and there’s a fucking difference, _Melvin_ , you fucking piece of shit.”

Isak stops, inhales, then exhales.

“ _Jeofaile_ , because mistakes happen, and it’s inevitable, and that doesn’t make things okay, but most of the time it has to be, and it is _jeofaile_ perpetually embedded on my arm to remind myself that I may be a proud person, but I’m a hopeful person too, and I may have failed countless of times in the past, and I will fail probably more than, I don’t know, countless of times in the future, but as long as I live, it doesn’t - it _won’t_ stop me from redeeming myself, because I have infinite chances to do so, or like, a lifetime at most.”

And that’s - 

That’s a whole fucking lot to take in.

Even does not know what to say, so it’s in his favor when Isak releases a dry laugh and says, “You’re right. For a lawyer, I’m quite shit at explaining things,” he exhales another laugh, and it’s because Even never takes his eyes off of him that he notices Isak’s eyes suddenly glossy.

“I don’t know what I really want, up until now,” Isak admits. “I’ve finished law school, and that’s an accomplishment in itself, because law school? It’s not a child’s play, man, it was five years of hell. I am a lawyer now and a partner in a good firm at that, and I have everything I could possibly want, but I just . . . I feel - I feel like I’m still so lost.”

Isak’s voice is so tiny, and all Even could do is to lean forward, pulls him so that his head is nestled in the crevices of his neck, and he holds him tight, the tightest he could ever hold, so that he has completely engulfed him.

“It’s stupid, I know,” Isak mumbles.

“No, it isn’t,” Even whispers when he finally finds his voice. “I think it takes a whole lot of courage admitting things like this. You’re not settling and that’s a good thing! As a matter of fact, I think you’re the bravest person I have ever met, and I haven’t met a lot of lawyers, but I know that you’re the smartest one-”

“-You can’t say that-”

“-and Melvin definitely isn’t because there really is a difference, _Melvin_ , you fucking piece of shit,” Even proclaims, and Isak’s already laughing when Even kisses him, and he’s still laughing when he kisses back and in that moment, they’re all right. For a small moment in time, everything is all right again.

And hours later, when Isak’s finally sound asleep, Even thinks that he can write a story mimicking the staccato rhythms and cadences of a song and writes it with bravado even because he can describe things easily, and like, he can write about someone who spends six-figure amounts of money but who doesn’t have that type of money to spend, and he can write an entire lifelong love story of two people in the space of a single page; about how they met, how they briefly separated, the time they got married, if they had kids, the illness they lived through, and who died first.

But here, with his arms wrapped tightly around his boy, his beautiful, wonderful boy, for some unknown reason, he cannot for the life of him find the right words to describe how he feels at the moment. 

And he’s perfectly okay with that.

**x**

“Can I borrow some of your clothes?” Even asks early in the morning the next day.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to meet your colleagues looking like I just went back from a concert. I wanna make a good first impression.”

With that, Isak freezes.

“You’re coming with me? Why?” he says, pauses, then amends, “And you did come back from a concert. You _did_ the concert.”

Even looks at him amusedly, because that is such a _lawyer_ thing to say. “Didn’t you hear? It’s BYHTW day,” he says.

Isak frowns in confusion. “Do I even want to know?”

Even only smiles and kisses the frown away. “So, can I?”

“But I like you in your clothes,” Isak says grumpily.

“I like me in yours,” Even says haughtily, and that seems to appease Isak.

“Okay,” he says and continues to take a bite of the eggs happily.

**x**

By the looks of it, Isak’s closet is rather filled to the brim with formal clothes, and his “not formal” clothes are still formal to Even’s standards, and suddenly, Even realizes something.

“Isak, baby,” he calls, and he hears the shower turn off before Isak’s head pokes out of the bathroom door, his hair dripping on the white carpet. “I’m going to ask you a question and you’re going to answer with the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, alright?”

As expected, Isak rolls his eyes at Even’s rather witty (if he says so himself) quip but tilts his head in curiosity. “Oh-kay?”

Even does a long pause and takes a deep breath, and Isak’s mouth is already downturned, thoroughly unimpressed with Even’s dramatics. “Did you or did you not buy the clothes you wore back in New York for the sole purpose of impressing me?”

Isak’s mouth moves like a fish out of the water as he sweats out for a strong denial, and Even howls in laughter.

“You did!”

“I … did, wait - no, I didn’t!” Isak exclaims. “Yes, I did buy new clothes, but it’s not for the sole purpose of impressing you, you narcissist!”

Even folds his arms and raises an eyebrow in challenge, “What for, then?”

“I wanted to fit in, okay!”

“Baby,” Even laughs, eyes full of mirth as he grabs Isak’s wet and slightly pink face with both of his hands and squishes his cheeks, “I hate to break it to you, but you stuck out like a sore thumb. No one wears Chucks _that_ clean.”

“Fuck off, Even!” he groans and slams the bathroom door at Even’s already red laughing face.

In the end, he found the ratty shirt Isak wore in New York, and he paired it with his usual black ripped jeans because weirdly enough, Isak’s trousers are too short on him.

After cleaning up in the kitchen, he goes back to the bedroom and is greeted by an Isak standing in front of the full length mirror, fixing his tie. He’s already dressed up, and he’s already seen Isak in his formal wear, but it still leaves him speechless how different Isak looks from what Even’s used to seeing him.

Now standing in front him is a man. A full grown-up wearing a crisp blue button up paired with light gray trousers. His usual converse-clad feet are now covered by a black semi-brogue Oxford shoes. The only thing reminding Even that the man standing is Isak - _his_ Isak - is the grumpy expression on his face as he struggles with the tie around his neck.

Even walks up to him and decides to fight the tie himself.

“I hate wearing it,” Isak grumbles. Even pauses and starts removing it.

“Then don’t,” Even says. “I think it looks better without, anyway.”

“Yeah?” Isak says, tilting his head up, the universal sign of asking for a kiss. 

And who is Even to refuse him, honestly?

“Mhmm,” Even hums in affirmation. “In fact, I think you look better without clothes _at all_.”

“Even,” Isak whines in protest, but he’s already nosing Even’s neck. 

And this is another thing that confuses Even - reconciling Isak, lawyer, to this Isak, the most submissive boy he’s ever come to known.

“I wanna rough you up, baby. God, you look so pristine I wanna rip your clothes off and just take you here, pressed in the mirror. Can I do that? Claim you right here, right now?”

He doesn’t wait for a response, doesn’t really need to; Isak’s trousers are halfway down his legs and he’s already bending even before Even finishes his question.

**x**

To no one’s surprise, Isak’s late to his first meeting.

“You’re late to your first meeting,” Chris says through a phone Even has never seen before. As a matter of fact, he’s actually never seen Isak with a phone until last night.

Even subtly lowers his sunglasses as he eyes the boy in the passenger seat. Chris is on speaker, and Isak sounds so formal talking to her, but Even can see Isak smiling dopily with his eyes focused straight ahead on the road. 

_Which_ \- Even should also be doing, seeing that he’s the one driving with a precious cargo.

“Cancel that lunch meeting with Magnusson as well,” Isak says just as Even turns right.

“Okay,” Chris drawls. “Any particular reason why?”

Isak huffs. “I don’t owe him an explanation.”

“He’s going to be asking why.”

Isak rolls his eyes and turns to look at Even. “Tell him I’m a bit preoccupied, that I have something more important to deal with, make something up, I don’t care, just cancel. Also, please clear my schedule 15:00 onwards.”

Even raises his eyebrows. Isak only smiles.

“Noted. Harry’s in your office, by the way.”

Isak rolls his eyes. “Tell him I’ll be there in 5.”

“Tell him yourself.”

For the third time in less than two minutes, Isak rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he mutters. “Oh, and Chris, will you please grab me an extra coffee, to go? Black, but get at least three packets of sugar. Brown.”

“Sure. Hi, Even,” Chris drawns.

“Hi,” he says just as Isak shouts, “ _Chris!_ ”

He hears Chris huff. “What, Isak? You think I wouldn’t put two and two together when you’ve been MIA since Friday and Julian gets a sudden day off today? Everyone knows you can’t drive for shit, babe.”

“Oh my God, Chris, goodbye,” Isak says and cuts the call off just as Even stops in front of Isak’s building. He turns to look at Isak.

“Leave it, love,” Isak mutters, ears pink, before both of their doors open. Even hears a ‘Good morning, Mr. Valtersen’ from the valet, and Even’s ears pricked.

The moment they enter the building is the moment Even sees the subtlest change in Isak’s demeanor. It is refreshing as he watches Isak’s stance grow larger, his posture straighter, his face becoming impassive and Even is caught off-guard of how the look of mischief and coyness he has grown to love disappears from Isak’s face right in front of his very eyes. The transformation is quite riveting, like an out-of-body experience of some sorts. Everything involving this version of Isak is.

Chris is waiting for them by the elevator, a piqued look on her face.

She takes one look at the both of them, retorts in a monotone, “Well, you look well-fucked,” ignores Isak’s _Chris, fy faen!_ , hands Even the largest coffee cup he’s ever seen, and ushers/pushes Isak towards the conference room door.

Isak pauses and steps towards Even. “I’ll see you in half an hour, okay baby? Stay in my office for the meantime.”

Even nods dutifully. 

“Chris,” Isak says as a warning, his eyes flicking between her and Even. Even sees Chris roll her eyes. 

“I’ll take care of Harry,” she assures him. 

“I’m talking about _you_. Behave, both of you,” Isak all but pleads.

“Good luck, love,” Even says quietly and squeezes Isak’s arm.

Chris snorts. “He’s not the one that needs luck, buddy, trust me.”

Isak glares at her, then softens his glance at Even before doing the ‘transformation’ once again in under five seconds, and then he disappears behind the door.

“He does that very well, don’t you think?” Even muses.

Chris smirks and looks at Even from head to toe. “Come with me. We have a lot to talk about.”

**x**

Harry isn’t in Isak’s office when Even enters.

Sana is.

Even evaluates the room just like how he did in Isak’s apartment, and it’s interesting how Isak’s corner office is just like that of his apartment: gaudy, expensive, and reassuringly exclusive, complete with frosted doors and a floor to ceiling window. He’s got a pretty nice view, Even thinks offhandedly, seeing that BVS Law Group, Inc. occupies the entire thirtieth floor of the building. 

He takes it all in, well-aware of Sana's inquisitive gaze.

He's looking over the window, down the busy streets, and for a moment, everything is silent.

Finally, he asks, “Is he okay here?”

It takes a while before he gets his answer, and when she speaks, “He manages,” is what she settles with, and, well -

That’s not what Even wants to hear, but then again, Even doesn’t know what he really wants to hear, _but the thing is_ , he does know, because of course he does.

He wants to hear _no, Even, Isak’s not okay, he’s miserable here, take him home now._

And when Isak finally enters the room half an hour later, Even yearns for him to say _this is not home, I don’t belong here, Even, take me home now, baby._

But that’s not what he said, not at all, because when he opens his mouth, what comes out instead is, “I just came back from Harry’s office, and I think he just offered me a Senior Partner position,” and Even thinks, of course.

_Of course._

**x**

Los Angeles is graced with _Next to You,_ and Even has half a mind to change the encore, because it doesn’t matter now - it’s _pointless_ now - singing that _if he gets tired of this town, he should let_ Even _know so they can go somewhere brand new, because when_ Even _lays his head to rest, he hopes that it’s always next to him, and when he runs, when he’s gone,_ Even _will be waiting._

Because Isak’s not leaving California in the near future.

Even will be waiting, but Isak’s not coming back to Even anytime soon.

And what torments Even the most is the fact that not even a week passed since they arrived in this godforsaken place; Los Angeles is only their second show out of five, and Even briefly wonders, yet again, _why the fuck did they even book five shows in California, honestly?_ and for good measure adds, _who the fuck thought it was a good idea to do five shows in this damn valley?_ and then Even looks over the crowd, and it’s coming back to him now. 

He knows the answer, of course he does. 

The answer is right there in front of him, the answer is there _staring_ back at him.

The answer is this: it’s because Even insisted - even fought with Yousef tooth and nail for those five shows and two weeks, because California is where his husband is living his life, and Even hasn’t been with him in over a year when they’re supposed to be apart for only six months, and he wants to know - he’s _dying_ to know - what’s in fucking California, of all places, but that doesn’t even matter because what really matters is that California has Isak, and Even wants Isak.

As it turns out, Los Angeles is where Isak cracks _for the first time_ , but it is also in Los Angeles where Even _finally_ did.


	4. the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game was fun while it lasted, Even has to admit, but it ended so badly, and it wasn’t supposed to be like that, because they played right, right? They pretended to not know each other, and they talked, and they were supposed to rekindle their relationship, and it kind of did, in its own way, because they found their way back to each other, and Even is ready to admit it now: they were falling apart, but this tour happened and they fell back together, but Even is just done now. 
> 
> He wants his Isak back now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ft. the before trilogy, an ultimatum and a question
> 
> Songs:
> 
> East Chicago, IN - Michigander  
> August - Flipturn  
> Take Me to Church - Hozier  
> Brutally - Suki Waterhouse

Santa Barbara is where Even decides that he’s done playing the game.

 _East Chicago, IN_ is the encore based on the setlist, and Even is more than ready to sing it because it starts with such a bitter taste. It’s him _hoping that he found somebody to love him, someone who lives in the same world that he does,_ but then it gets hopeful again _,_ because _if_ Isak _ever wanted to leave, he should know that_ Even _will be standing right there, so he can come back to him,_ and Even is just tired of being hopeful now. 

Santa Barbara is Julian dutifully waiting for Isak at the hotel parking lot, and Isak deliberately not meeting Even’s eyes.

When Even says, “You’re leaving,” Isak tells him, “I have work tomorrow.” 

When Even declares, “I want you to stay,” Isak replies, “You know I can’t.”

And then they hold eye contact for a moment, and then quietly, oh so quietly, he hears Isak say, “You can come home with me.”

There’s a loud silence for the moment in which Even looks at Isak. _Really_ looks at the man standing in front of him.

Even says, “ _You_ come home.” 

“I _am_ home,” says Isak. 

His voice is achingly unfamiliar, and it’s so, so soft, and Even has to squeeze his eyes shut and count from one to five because he’s trying so hard to not be mad, to not lash out, and he refuses to spare Isak a glance, because he doesn’t want him to know that Even is standing on the precipice now, barely hanging now.

Santa Barbara air feels thick and heavy, and it’s weighing down on Even’s shoulders, making it difficult to breathe. The drastic change in the atmosphere is giving him a whiplash.

Something shifted.

They’re doing this tonight, then.

Fucking _finally._

“Stop it,” he mutters. “Stop saying that. This is not home. Here is not your home, Isak.”

“Even, please-”

“No!” Even’s voice rings loud in the almost empty parking lot of the hotel.

Isak goes to console him. Even shakes his head and takes a couple steps back but not before seeing the hurt look pass Isak’s face.

“Calm down, Ev-” 

Suddenly, it’s too hot, and Even feels like he’s about to burst. It’s been there for quite a while now - his anger, and it’s slowly but surely growing from nothing into a tornado.

“No!” he shouts, “I’m sick of this! I’m done with your game, Isak! You fucking left, alright? You left me, that’s what you did! You chose this over me.”

Isak looks like Even just slapped him. “What are you talking about? We talked about this! We had an agreement! We said you’d do the tour, and then we’ll talk. You-”

“Fucking hell, ‘ _we’ll talk’_ ,” Even mocks under his breath as he releases the driest laugh. He has to close his eyes and turn away for a second, because he cannot believe Isak just said that.

When he looks back at him, his eyes harden. “Do you even hear yourself right now? Do you?” he goads. “You know what, I can’t even look at you right now. I feel like I don’t know you at all. You’re basically a stranger to me now.”

And apparently, that was it for Isak. Knuckles white from clenching his fist too hard, teeth gritted from effort to remain silent, Isak spews, “Last time I checked we both agreed to this, and now you’re just throwing this all in my face? That’s a bit fucking selfish, don’t you think?”

Even balks. “I am selfish? You fucking bastard! You flew across the Atlantic Ocean trying to play lawyer-”

Isak’s eyes look like they’re about to pop out from anger. “ _Play_ , are you fucking kidding me? You think I’m just playing? You think I’m not doing anything substantial here, that I’m not striving? You’ve seen my flat, haven’t you? Of course you have; I basically had to drag you to it, because you never visited me! You said you were going to visit but you never fucking did! That’s not-”

“But I’m here now, aren’t I? What more do you want from me? I-”

“-want you to stop acting as if I left you no choice when that’s not the case at all! You don’t get to pull the victim card because nobody forced you to agree! You did that on your own!”

“I agreed with this because I can’t fucking fathom the idea that you’re going to resent me for the rest of our lives if I didn’t. Fuck’s sake, Isak! We’ve been together for nine years, and we’re married for four! I just don’t understand how easy it was for you to leave me-”

“- _Fucking stop saying that_ -”

“-and I’ll be damned if the best years of my life goes down the drain just because of one year of living away from each other, but fuck, Isak, it’s been a year now, baby, and you’ve settled down without me!”

“Oh stop being so high and mighty and act as if you’ve been miserable all throughout this trip! You think I wouldn’t know of your late night activities-”

And that - _what_?

Burning rage hissed through Even’s body like a deadly poison, screeching a release in the form of unwanted violence.

Right now, he sees nothing but red. “How _fucking_ dare you accuse me of cheating. Of all things, Isak-”

“Do you think I’m stupid, Even? You seem to forget that Jonas is my friend _first_ and he tells me things-”

“Jonas can take his opinions and stick it where the sun doesn’t shine, okay? Yes, I meet new people, but I don’t cheat with them-”

“Fuck you! What about that guy you’ve been having eye sex in Philadelphia, huh? Vilde has fucking eyes, you fucking piece of-”

“He was a dealer, Isak! I got weeds from him, and we got high but fucking hell _baby_ , that was it and you know that-”

“How the fuck would I know that-”

“Well that’s not my fault now, is it, when you’re not there-”

“ _Oh yes_ , Even, because it is _my_ fault that I want to support my husband gallivanting throughout the whole fucking America and see him play in oh, I don’t know, almost every State, I may as well really be your new groupie, all the while I maintain my job and deal with shit ton of paper works-”

“Don’t blame me if you’re unhappy with your job, Valtersen! That’s your choice, and that’s your issue. You chose this path and even went across the continent for it, or don’t you remember? Do I have to remind you that it was you who left for this place-”

Isak looks so close from ripping all his hair out from frustration. “You think I like this? You think I want to be stuck in this god forsaken place? For fuck’s sake, Even! It’s like you don’t even know me at all!” he says exasperatedly. “I hate it here! It’s too populated and some people are just so fucking rude and it’s so hot I feel like I’m being suffocated most of the time! But you know what sucks the most? _You’re_ not here. This is not home, Even, contrary to whatever fuck up story you constructed in your head, and you know it! Nowhere is home when you’re not there, and I’m just miserable without you here, baby, and I’m so sad all the time and it fucking breaks my heart whenever Yousef comes to visit Sana but you never do. Even, don’t you see? You left me too.”

Even knows Isak’s face when he’s fighting back tears - his bottom lip wobbles, his button nose turns red, and his eyes blink rapidly.

Right now, he looks two seconds away from bawling.

“I thought you understood, Even.” 

He sounds so resigned, like all the fight has left his body.

“And despite all that, you never came home.”

Even is not going to ask why, because he’s too scared of Isak’s answer. So instead, he says, “You were never coming back home, weren't you?”

Silence, and then:

“I don’t know, Even.”

His heart - it breaks. That’s the simplest way Even can describe it.

He can’t breathe, he can’t think, and he’s so tired all of a sudden, so damn exhausted, like all the energy was sucked right out of him, and he’s feeling so heartbroken, because while Isak’s answer is not a yes, it is not a no, either.

Finally, it dawns to him: they don’t need to finish the tour to decide. Isak has already decided for the both of them even before Even set foot in this goddamn country.

“Well you better make up your mind fast, because I’m leaving this fucking country, with or without you.” 

The words that he never thought he’d even think, let alone say out loud, flew out of his mouth, and Even knew instantly from the look in Isak’s eyes that they’d hit their mark. At this very moment, their relationship shattered in their very eyes.

Nothing would ever be the same again, Even realizes.

“What in the world is going on here!” 

It’s Yousef and Eskild, and there’s Jonas, Mikael and Eva and fucking Julian in the background, but Even refuses to look at them. He’s panting like he’s just run a marathon, and his world is swimming with red and he’s just so cold all over. 

“You’re finally giving me an ultimatum.”

The way Isak says it – it makes Even recoil. He’s so accustomed to Isak’s ways and his fiery temper; his cold fury that usually burns with dangerous intensity. Even never worried about Isak’s frequent fireworks and showers of red hot sparks. It was the bitterly cold, slow burning rages that threatens to engulf their relationship that he’s most afraid of.

Right now, Isak is projecting just that.

Even laughs, and it’s so, so painful. “Yes, yes I am.” His devastation begins to melt away and bleeds into a sentimental sort of sadness.

“But you know what’s the most fucked up thing? It’s the fact that you even have to choose.”

So there they are in an empty parking lot in Santa Barbara, standing in opposite camps, and Even wishes that this is not the end, but knows very well that it might as well is.

This time, it’s Even who leaves.

**x**

So that’s that in Santa Barbara - the end.

**x**

Here’s what happened hours later: Even is missing, clearly drunk out of his mind and everyone is on the verge of panicking.

When he stumbles in the club, the pungent combination of stale beer and body odor hits him. Despite that, Even takes one look at the bartop that curves into the barely lit room, the whole room that looks like an epitome of a den of debauchery, alcoholism and the great unwashed of the town and thinks that it’s absolutely perfect. He then heads straight to the bathroom, and in there he waits and waits and waits and at exactly 00:01, he calls him.

“You were mine,” he slurs when the ringing stopped. “Remember, in August, you were mine.”

Silence, just pants, then - “I was. I am, baby.”

“No, you’re not. You’re not anymore,” Even insists. There’s heat in his voice, and his heart is beating so erratically. His nails are digging on his palm; a little more force and it’ll draw blood. “It’s officially September. Now you’re just a stranger.”

“Stop saying that and can you please just tell me where you are? Everyone’s out looking for you and I’m going fucking crazy-”

Even is a blabbering mess at this point, but he’s hurting so much, and Isak sounds too calm and collected, and really, it can’t be that he’s the only one hurting.

“You breathe so loud, do you remember?” Even loudly slurs, effectively cutting Isak off. “I was listing all your flaws to make it easier for me to hate you because it was you who broke us up that one time. And you know what I got? All that I could think about was how you breathe so fucking loud it drove me crazy.”

Even decides right then and there that he doesn’t want to be the only one feeling like skinning himself alive, so when he says, “You drove me crazy that time, too. You were such an asshole, love, _God_ , do you remember? I loved you. All I did was to love you and to give you my all. And what did you do? You left, didn’t you? But of course you did! You always leave me, Isak,” he knows that he’s not alone anymore. This topic has always been a sore spot for his husband; it upsets Isak too much that they never really talked about it. And this is exactly why Even is talking about it now.

But when Isak says, ”Why are you bringing this up?”, his voice sounds _too_ upset for Even’s liking, and he’s suddenly so confused because this is exactly what he wanted but at the same time it doesn’t make sense because, “Weren’t you the one who hurt me? _You_ hurt _me_ , baby. In fact, it was the most hurt you ever made me feel.”

The side effect of knowing someone for so long is that that person knows exactly where to hurt, because when Isak says, “What about the fact that I left you again? And it finally broke you? I broke your heart. What about that?”, Even knows that this is his Isak - the love of his life, the one who never plays fair, the one who always wins, and Even may refuse to believe that this is the man he married all he wants, but that’s not true, because _fuck_ it hurts. Oh God it hurts.

Even cries. He’s usually a silent crier, but that night, in the bathroom of a random club in Santa Barbara, he wails.

“You’re the meanest person I’ve ever met, Isak Valtersen,” Even cries. “You broke my heart, baby.”

“You broke mine, too.”

“Good,” Even says and wipes the snot all over his face. He’s not done hurting, so he’s not done hurting Isak, too. Even wants to win - win _what_ , he does not have any fucking clue, but he’s so fucking tired of feeling like he’s the most hurt between the two of them, and it’s so fucking unfair, so Even decides that he needs to win, even just this once.

“Does it hurt? When you look at your skin, does it annoy you? Irk you that I’m there? I’m always going to be there now. I’m always going to be a part of you, Isak. Forever.”

The silence is deafening.

Finally, Isak speaks. “No,” he says.

Even breaks down again. 

That’s how Yousef and Jonas finally found him, curled up in a fetal position, his wracking sobs echoing through the empty bathroom.

The next morning, when Even comes, there's a brief moment in which he forgets everything that happened yesterday, a brief moment where he's just tangled up in a pile of warm blankets. But then he realizes that he’s still in the clothes that he was wearing last night, and the harsh California sun is shining in through a crack in the slatted blinds, and Even’s phone is ringing somewhere in the room.

Finally, it dawns to him: it's the day after, and Isak’s calling, and Even remembers.

He ignores his calls. Instead, Even tells Yousef to book a studio. Yousef looks like he wants to protest, but one look at Even and he complies in defeat.

The next day, the band releases a new single, and Even feels like he’s never felt lower.

**x**

San Jose is silence.

Even is still angry, but Isak’s not here and Mikael is, so he takes it out on him.

He’s playing _Brutally_ in the empty hotel room, and he’s testing the right chord for the lyrics, _tell the truth that in my mind we were always on borrowed time; is it just that it always goes? To a place where love lost overflows?_ And he’s aware that it’s all dramatic but it’s okay because Even _is_ dramatic.

“You’re dramatic,” Mikael says. Even shoots him a glare but says nothing else.

Mikael lets out a long-suffering sigh and _taps taps taps_ both his feet on the ground. There’s a minute of silence of Even aggressively plucking his guitar and glaring at Mikael’s feet before the latter decides that enough is enough.

“That’s enough.”

Even groans. “ _Fuck’s sake_ , Mik. My marriage is falling apart. Can’t you leave me alone and let me wallow in peace?”

Mikael should know when to leave it, Even thinks, because aside from Isak, Mikael’s the one who knows just about everything about Even, down to even the most mundane things. He knows Even’s misguided Baz Luhrmann obsession when he was 18, knows how Even absolutely hates ketchup on his eggs, knows Even was the one who broke Mrs. Holm's attic window when he threw the baseball a tad bit harder that one summer in '07.

Even doesn’t remember a time when Mikael wasn’t there, because it was Mikael who was holding his hand that dreadful time when Even got his wisdom tooth removed at 16, and it was Mikael patting 11-year old Even’s back as he puked his gut out when he’d eaten too much chocolate in one sitting. Mikael was the one standing next to him when Isak walked down the aisle, and it was Mikael who witnessed the devastated look on Even’s face when Isak told him his news, because _‘you said six months, Isak’_.

Mikael was there right from the start, but then again, so was Isak.

Because when Even and Eva were too tired to play pacifists, it was Isak who pulled Jonas and Mikael out of their funk and knocked some sense into their stupid brains, because _for_ _fuck’s sake Mikael, what’s the use of all that money if Even’s already dead from dehydration?_ but also _stop spending all your damn money for jay, what the fuck Jonas, all that shit does not make you cool, it just makes you an idiot,_ and it was Isak who usually pulled Even away before he starts choking Mikael for being a little shit and insisting that it was Even’s turn to pay the gas when they all know it was his turn.

Isak was the one who always grabbed a furious Eva away from all those raunchy girls with the flashing tits, but it was also him who Even had to wrangle away from the raunchiest boys, all the while screaming, _you fucking touch my boyfriend again without his consent, you fucking prick, you’re never going to come out of this fucking bar alive, you fucking hear me?_

It was Isak taking the couch and Even lying on the floor of a friend of a friends’, because he knew that his boyfriend was drained from all the readings he had to do and all the cases he had to digest, and yet he’s out there with a then struggling Even, supporting him and willingly jumping from one place to another in those once in a blue moon days where his schedule coincided with the band’s or when they booked what Even felt like was _'_ the'gig.

It was also Isak who screamed in Norwegian at one of the English nurses in that hospital back in London because _my boyfriend’s fucking bleeding all over your goddamn floor and you’re asking us for pounds first? I’ll give you a pound, you piece of shit-_ and they were thrown out, of course, but it was also Isak who was the only one that laughed at his ‘bloody show’ joke, because Even’s a clumsy fucking idiot, that much has already been established, but Isak’s so fucking in love him, so it’s okay.

Isak was the one who spoke to Elias first while he was looking out for Mikael to _come back to the van now and just humor him, please Mik, I really think he has a concussion_ , and Isak was there when Elias introduced them to Yousef, who he was already familiar with because his girlfriend Sana was in his Public International Law class.

It was Isak who was so in love with Hozier and Even would be jealous if he wasn’t so in love with the Irish God himself, and so when Isak requested that they do a rendition of _Take Me To Church_ while they hung around in Elias’ basement _,_ Even made it the filthiest it could ever be, just like how extra filthy their sex life had become when they decided to make it their ‘fucking anthem’ a week ago. And really, just - thank _God and anything else holy_ for the fine specimen that is Hozier.

And when Even was being crowned as the Royal Master Instigator of Flirting, Isak was there sulking in the background because _I_ _’m the master of flirting, not you!_ and Even appeased Isak with _what are you so harried about, we’re basically married now and that makes you my first lady, so the title extends to you, sweetheart_ and Isak stopped and glared at him and his patronizing little _sweetheart,_ but accepted the explanation nonetheless.

So see, Isak has always been in the picture, and right there in the quiet hotel room, Even knows that Mikael knows that it isn’t him who’s up for this job, whatever that is. Because this is not just Even’s problem; it’s Isak’s too, and while Mikael knows absolutely everything about Even, it is Eskild who knows absolutely everything about Isak. 

So when Mikael sends him a pointed look as if saying _you’re an idiot_ , and really says the actual words, adding, “I’m going to get Eskild,” Even’s not even a little bit surprised. 

Minutes later, Eskild comes prancing in. “Mikael told me to tell you that you’re an idiot, and I agree with him one hundred percent. Now let’s get this all out, baby gay. Talk to your guru.”

Even rolls his eyes. “I’m not baby gay. Isak’s baby gay.”

“Well when you started shacking up with my baby gay, you became one too.”

 _Shacking up._ Even’s heart pinches.

“I don’t know what happened.”

“Why don’t you start with the fact that you were both acting really fucking weird ever since this tour started?”

And that - Even knows the answer to.

It was Isak who came up with their thing, because _every couple has a thing, Even._ They just finished watching the _Before_ trilogy, and Isak was so captivated by the ending of the last movie that he made Even promise that _i_ _f we ever fight, we do it like them, Even, we talk, okay baby? We pretend that we don’t know each other to lighten the mood if we have to, but the most important thing is we talk, because miscommunication just fucks it all,_ and Even easily agreed, because when does he not, really? 

He agreed to the _thing_ , and he agreed when Isak decided to leave Norway for six months, and what’s six months, really, compared to five years of dating and four year of marriage, right?

So when Even saw his husband for the first time in over half a year in a dingy bar in New York, and his first words were what Even didn’t expect at all, he knew right then and there that he’s playing the game, and what did Isak say? _We pretend that we don’t know each other to lighten the mood if we have to_ , so Even, of course, played too.

And he was apprehensive at first because he hasn’t seen his husband for a long time and he just wants to ravish him, damn it, but then he noticed what Isak was wearing, the playful glint in his eyes, and then he realized where they were, and Even’s heart started pounding in excitement because that night was a literal fucking déjà vu, because the first time - the actual first time - they met was in a dingy bar in Oslo. 

It was a 21-year old Even leaning against the bartop with Eva and they were waiting for her new boyfriend called Jones or something to perform on stage because _he sings and plays guitar too, Even, I think you should hang out with him, Mikael would love him,_ and it was Eva who he was asking about the time, but it was the semi-bald bartender who responded and said that _oh would you look at that, it’s 21:21 now, hottie_ , and then out of nowhere, there came this blonde _cherub_ , and he was drunk off his face, but Even immediately remembered seeing him when he entered the pub because the group he was with were making quite a ruckus on one of the booths.

Cherub - because _God_ he did look like a fucking angel that night, albeit a drunk one - was hanging off the bartender’s back, and then he shouted, “21:21! That’s the time I was born! Right, Eskild? My mama said I was born on 21:21 of August 20, 1997!” _,_ and the bartender who is apparently called Eskild nodded dutifully with the fondest look on his face, and Even thought that there’s a history here, but Eskild must have seen Even’s not so subtle stare on the boy because he turned to him and said, “This is Isak, my roommate. I promise he’s usually more decent looking but he’s just finished his first sem in law school, so he’s properly sloshed right now. Say hi, baby gay,” and _Isak_ frowned at the nickname but he looked at Even through his eyelashes, slowly chewing something on his mouth, and Even’s too close to smell the cherry-flavored gum, and Even hated cherry, but from Isak’s mouth that night at a dingy bar in Oslo, it never tasted so good.

And looking back now, maybe Even was wrong; it wasn’t Boston that was nostalgic, because that night in New York, Even was slammed hard of the fact that _this is no coincidence at all - this is fate,_ because it seems too good to be true _,_ but the narrative includes Isak, so Even expects nothing less.

He wasn’t lying back then in New York when it only took Isak nine minutes for Even to fall _back_ in love with him, but then again - _did he ever really stop?_ It was a nasty year without Isak; it was so-so for the first three months, because contrary to what their friends say, they’re not _that_ attached to the hip, and the band just finished recording the album, and Yousef just announced that they were planning an intercontinental tour. Even was busy, and Isak was busier, and there’s just this whole ocean in between them, but that did _not_ mean that he stopped loving his husband. 

The game was fun while it lasted, Even has to admit, but it ended so badly, and it wasn’t supposed to be like that, because they played right, right? They pretended to not know each other, and they talked, and they were supposed to rekindle their relationship, and it kind of did, in its own way, because they found their way back to each other, and Even is ready to admit it now: they were falling apart, but this tour happened and they fell back together, but Even is just done now. 

He wants his Isak back now.

“I just want him back,” Even ends his sentiment. “But he wouldn’t come home with me. He already built a home here. This is his home now. Even without me.”

Eskild is quiet for a moment. “You went back to his place. Isak said you were being weird.”

He wasn’t being weird - or maybe he was; he was _apprehensive_ to see Isak’s place, but that’s only because he was scared, he was _terrified_ to find that Isak’s living his best life without Even, with his new apartment in the poshest part of the city and his generous colleagues and his new fancy clothes, and it would also trigger the underlying guilt he so adamantly repress, because Isak was right, Even never did visit him when he moved to his new apartment, but it’s not like Isak was dying to come home, because he apparently was not. 

“I wasn’t being weird.”

“Isak also said you never visited.”

And that's just a lie. A lie and a slander, really. Before Isak left, they agreed on a schedule of weekend visits, and some spontaneous ones if Even could squeeze in in between gigs. There was even the surprise trip five months down, and it was spent in bed with whispers of _I_ _missed you so much Even_ , and _d_ _on’t worry baby, just one more month,_ and Isak didn’t respond, Even realized, he only hummed.

A week after Even went back to Norway, Isak called and said that he’ll be staying in LA for another month, and then it was extended for three months, then another, because _Harry’s being so kind, love, he even let me stay in this huge apartment, and this is a good opportunity for me to grow, right? To prove to myself that those five years of hell is not a waste after all,_ _and you’ll be touring here next August anyway, by then I think I’ll be done here and I’ll finally go back home, and it’s just perfect, Even, baby, because it’ll be our 9 years too, and I’m thinking Chicago..._

And thinking about it now, Even realizes that he wasn’t being dramatic in Texas or in New Mexico or Arizona or Nevada, not at all, because Isak left him in Chicago on their fucking nine-year anniversary, alright. He’s allowed to wallow.

Even did visit alright, but he stopped when he realized that Isak had been gone for half part of the year, and he won’t be coming back for the rest of it.

And for quite some time he harbored bitter feelings toward Yousef whenever he told him that he’s going to the US to visit Sana and _maybe you want to come with, Even? I could book you a seat next to mine._ But the thing is, Isak’s not the only proud one in their relationship, and Even decided that he’s not going to budge and reach out first, no way, not when it was Isak who left, and it was Isak who wanted this. It was Isak who chose to stay in California for another six months, expecting Even to just agree with it, because apparently _it’s fine, what’s another six months, right love?_

Wrong, so with the biggest lump in his throat, he told Yousef that _no I can’t, because we’re busy rehearsing and there’s this thing about the album that still needs to be finalized, you know; next time though,_ and there was Yousef sporting the most disappointed look, and he’d say, “You know, you’re doing absolutely no one a favor with this pride thing, Even.” Even would get so mad because _what the fuck does Yousef know about his marriage?_ So Even told him to _fuck off, man, you know nothing about my marriage._

And then later when he was ready to apologize and say that he changed his mind, Yousef was already in LA, and when he realized that Yousef was absolutely right, because he always is, it’s too late then because next thing he knows, the tour starts next month, and he’ll just have to wait until then to finally, finally see his husband again.

And see his husband, he did. It was perplexing, in a way, because the Isak he fell in love with in Norway is not the same Isak he fell in love with in the USA, but at the same time, he is. It’s still the same Isak, whose actions are completely different with how he thinks. He’s the same conundrum, the same contradiction that Even knows. He’s complicated and complex. He’s a good lawyer, but he hates his profession with a passion. He wears designer suits by day, and follows up-and-coming Norwegian indie bands in bars in a ratty shirt and rattier jeans at night. He’s shy except when he’s not. He’s the strongest person Even knows, and he’s the softest one, too.

Isak’s still this grumpy boy, this wily boy, this smart, wonderful, beautiful boy, and he still wears the same perfume that Even loves, he still hates the taste of fine wine but can chug a beer that rivals Aaron Rogers, he still won’t stop wiggling whenever Even shaves his beard, he's still the same silly boy who gets jealous of _himself_ when they were talking about "the boy" behind _August_ , and the point is that he’s still the same lovely boy Even’s ever had the pleasure of meeting and loving.

“Even, you’re bottling everything up, and that’s not healthy,” Eskild says, tearing down his train of thoughts. “And as your guru first and your manager second, I demand that you either start crying or stop pouting.”

“You can’t just-”

“Now!”

So Even sobs. 

Eskild rushes right next to his side, gentle hands coming up to rub at his shoulders, and it is comforting in some way, but at the same time it isn’t, because it’s not how Isak does it, and that’s just it, isn’t it? It’s Isak’s hands that he wants, Isak’s comfort that he craves. Even wants his husband because he’s the familiarity he yearns for, because Isak _knows_ him, and it’s not how Mikael knows Even, no, because Mikael may know Even the most, but Isak is the one who knows the most intimate parts of Even.

“Did he tell you that he’s not coming back?”

And well -

He didn't, _exactly_ , but, “He might as well did. He’s got his job here, and he’s just been offered a fucking Senior position, so of course he’ll accept it because it’s apparently more important than our fucking marriage.”

The moment the words left his mouth, shame and disgust filled his body.

Isak was right, Even realizes, he is a selfish asshole.

He knows. Even knows what Isak had to go through to be where he is at the moment.

Of course he does. He was right there.

He was the one consoling Isak and taking the pressure off his back when he was too stressed with this pompous professor who _made me stand and recite for 5 fucking hours Even, what a fucking prick_ , he was there when Isak was going literally batshit insane because he spends twenty hours of his day reading but his backlogs never seem to decrease.

Even was the one who flirted his way for a spot in the Kafe near UiO just to sneak Isak his caffeine fix, and his manager was an asshole but he bared it for two years because they simply couldn’t afford such luxury anymore, together with the rent and food and expenses for the band.

He knew Isak doesn’t drive, of course he knew - he was the one who tried (and failed) to teach him, but that’s because one of his law friends died in a car crash and since then Even stopped coercing him to learn how to.

And when the band was starting to make some noise and the cash doesn’t seem to stop flowing for a while now, Isak just finished his second semester of second year of law and he was all _I_ _’m so fucking sick of this country and its complicated statutes and I just want to see the beach, baby,_ so Even rewarded him tickets to the Philippines.

Of course, Even was a part of the whole _‘jeofaile’_ debacle with Isak’s cousin Melvin, and he really was a fucking piece of shit because Isak wouldn’t stop crying and refused to leave their bed for days, and he’s heard countless versions of Isak’s reason for the tattoo, but the one he gave in LA was the one that did not make sense at all and the one that matters the most.

Even witnessed a certain glow in his boyfriend’s eyes after that trip, so whenever their schedule allowed, they traveled together.

Even was with him when they rode an elephant in Thailand and it was one of the worst experiences of his life because _t_ _hey’re fucking exploited, Isak! Why the fuck is this in the itinerary? Did you see that man selling me a fucking necklace made of ivory? It was from their tusks!_ They spent the rest of the trip wallowing in guilt, and the encounter seemed to really struck a nerve for Isak because ten minutes before their shuttle leaves the hotel for the airport, Isak pulled Even to his feet and decided right then and there in the hotel lobby that he would get a tattoo. They missed their flight and it was such a hassle to rebook but it’s okay because Isak’s smiling again, and they stared at the tiny elephant on his newly marred skin the entire trip home.

It was Even who chose the lion design in Singapore and it was a drunk Even who said, ”Did you know that Taiwan is the first Southeast Asian country which legalizes same sex marriage?” to a drunker Isak while they walk around the central district of Taipei late at night, and they almost got married right then and there, but then he realized that they were now walking down the tattoo shop alley and Isak with his glazed eyes and too wide smile that fully bared his gap-tooth turned to him and said, “Even, baby, our hotel’s called Rainbow Hotel. Rainbow Hotel! I should get a rainbow tattoo!”, and that was that. 

Taiwan was in December and as it turns out, they didn’t have to wait long. By June of the following year, Isak finally got his LLM degree, and by August, they were married. It wasn’t a hasty decision - or maybe it was, because Even proposed right after Isak’s graduation and it was more or less two months of preparation, but Even knew Isak for five years then, loved him right from the very start, and it turns out it was actually pretty easy to plan a wedding when they only invited people less than their fingers and toes combined, but they were having a hard time finding _the_ wedding song, and his bandmates gave Even grief for it, because _'_ _Isak, dude, you’re marrying someone from a band and he has never written love songs about you? It's not too late to change your mind bro-’ ‘Shut the fuck up, Elias’,_ and well -

That just wasn’t true, was it? Because Even had in fact written a song for Isak, but that was years ago, back when Isak just started the second semester of his third year in law school and he was going literal bonkers and his mind was off his head and he was convinced that _the band wouldn’t get that far when you spend four days a week working in the Kafe, Even_ and suddenly it just blew out of proportion with _why can’t you just admit that you see me as a mere distraction now? Fuck’s sake, we moved in together but I never see you anymore!_ and what was supposed to be a quiet night became the night when Isak broke Even’s heart for the first time. 

It was the worst August, September, October, November and December of his life and Even hated Isak for it, so he wrote the fact that _they don’t talk about it, because they don’t have the time, and they thought love was something they were meant to find, but now he’s a stranger and_ Even _is still July, but do you remember,_ Isak _? In August, honey, you were mine?_

They got back together, because of course they do, but Isak hated - _despised_ \- _August_ with a burning passion, and he made damn sure that Even never release that song ever, so _August_ never saw the light of the day and was soon long forgotten.

But then -

Then it was suddenly all he ever heard for the few weeks leading to the wedding. Even first noticed it one night when Isak was washing the dishes and Even heard him sing _sticky fingers, from your own residue_ under his breath and he thought that it sounded so familiar, and then he finally caught on when Isak absentmindedly crunched his nose after _do you remember you used to breathe so loud?_ , and Even was smiling like a lunatic all the way outside to the garbage bin outside to throw the leftovers that night.

Isak didn’t realize it at first, but Even did. He was mumbling _and it sounded so damn good, and it tasted just like it should_ while arranging the law books haphazardly thrown over the floor back to the shelf as an aftermath of his final law exam.

The final straw happened when he heard Isak humming in the shower, _August honey, tasted sweeter with you_ , and Even was so giddy he burst in the bathroom and Isak almost slipped on the wet tiles.

“ _What the fu-_ ”

“Baby, I think we have our wedding song.”

And Isak threw the soap at him, screaming, "Fuck if we're having a wedding now! I almost slipped! I could've _died_ , Even!" because apparently, Even's not the only dramatic one in their relationship.

Isak, of course, downright rejected the idea, but then a week before the wedding, he finally realized that he does love it, because while the song reminds him about their break up and how he breathes so loud no less, Even was saying that he’s sweet too, so that kinda levels it, and of course there’s also the _well i’ve loved you from the start, and i’ve loved you from the start,_ and it’s just perfect, see, because Isak was Even’s that August even when everything was falling into shit, and Isak is Even’s for all the other Augusts for the rest of their lives.

But then Isak left, and Even’s not sure if that’s true anymore.

“I’m going to lose him,” Even sobs. “I’m afraid I already did.” 

“I’ve known you since you were a scrawny teenager Even-” 

“No, you didn’t-”

“-and what you just said is probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“I was so awful, but so was he! But I gave him an ultimatum, Eskild, and what if - fuck. What if he doesn’t choose me?”

“Okay, I take it back. _That_ is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Eskild says. “I can’t answer that for you, Even. Only Isak can. Just call your man and stop wallowing, you idiot gorgeous specimen.”

Even doesn’t.

What he did was he sent Isak a shitty demo of _Brutally,_ crooning _seems to me it’s over, but I’ll get used to it eventually, over and over again brutally, and it’s just the way it’s meant to be, now your love’s no good for me_ , before adding it in Sacramento’s setlist.

**x**

This is what happened in Sacramento: Eskild giving him a one-minute lecture of taking his advice in the worst possible way right as he gets off the stage.

Sacramento is going backstage before the encore and finding his husband walking back and forth in front of the couch, obviously restless.

Sacramento has Isak fuming.

Face mottled crimson, eyes popped, tree trunk neck strained, Isak’s words were spat out with the ferocity and rapidity of machine gun fire.

“What the fuck was that?” 

“It’s my latest song for you. You don’t like it?”

“No! I don’t! You sound as if we’re broken up!”

“Are we not?”

“Fuck if we are!”

“Well, when you leave your husband and start building a home by yourself in another continent, it does sound as if you’ve abandoned him.”

“Abandoned,” Isak scoffs. “For the last fucking time, you agreed to this. I never abandoned you!”

Even’s about to retort that he absolutely did, but Isak’s not done speaking. “And that’s not what I’m talking about, dipshit. Imagine my surprise when I’m on my way to work and suddenly my wedding song’s being played on the fucking radio. The fuck, Even? Did you seriously release _August_ just to spite me? That's _my_ fucking song!”

Now Even admits that that was a petty move, but he was so angry, and Isak just broke his heart, so.

Even’s silence seems to be too offensive for his husband, because Isak slams his hands on the coffee table and - “Answer me, Even Bech Næsheim, or so help me God I’ll slap you with those divorce papers so fast, your head will spin!”

Isak never argues with fists but his words pack a powerful punch. 

And what a punch, that is.

“The concierge calls you Mr. Valtersen,” is what Even says.

“What?”

Suddenly, Even’s angry again. “Do you know how offensive that is to me? What, do you introduce yourself to your colleagues like that? Do they even know you’re married?”

“Of course they know I’m married! Every time I go back to work after your shows I have to wear fucking turtle necks just to cover those damn hickeys! Turtle necks! In the middle of August!”

They’re both panting, Even from the show he just did less than five minutes ago, Isak from his anger.

“And the audacity of you to speak about abandonment,” Isak scoffs. “You literally left me in Santa Barbara, asshole! Everyone was going fucking crazy looking for you at two in the morning. Didn’t you even think of that? Of course you didn’t, you selfish prick! You only think about yourself! It’s always me, me, me in your world, isn’t it? Always me that gets hurt, always me that doesn’t get my way. My God, Even,” Isak screams, throwing his hand up in the air. Even was about to open his mouth, but Isak is apparently not done. “And that phone call! What the fuck does that even mean, _does it hurt?_ Did you just seriously ask me if it hurt that you’re always going to be a part of me? We’re married, you dumb fucking piece of shit! You could be an absolute idiot sometimes, Even, do you know that?”

”I know,” Even says, and he refuses to admit that he whined. It honestly feels like he’s being scolded at this point, but he can’t even be mad about it because Isak is making a point.

“I know, that, Isak, but your kitchen’s empty,” he says.

“What the fuck has that got to do with-”

“It means you’re not eating properly," he snaps. And just like that, Even feels like all the fight left him. He’s bone-dry exhausted. Even hung his head, dropping his hand away from his face for a moment as he sighs. "You have this big posh apartment, but you still sleep on Sana’s pull-out bed five times a week - Yousef told me, _shut up_. You’re here to prove something for yourself, I get that. But baby, you’re not happy here, and I’m not happy that you’re here. The point is,” Even breathes. “My point is you don’t belong here, Isak, and I’m not sure I can do this anymore.”

Isak’s intake of a sharp breath echoes in the whole room. He looks like all the air is punched out of his lungs, and for a second, they only hold each other’s fearful gaze.

“Ev-?”

Isak’s voice is the tiniest Even has ever heard it, and it’s heartbreaking to hear his confusion.

“I mean the long distance. Being apart. Jesus Christ, Isak, don’t be a fucking idiot.”

Even would laugh at the relief that flashes across Isak’s face, were it not for the serious conversation that they’re having at the moment. 

“I choose you, Even,” Isak says quietly, so quietly.

And that’s music to his ears, but it wasn’t true. Not at all, because, “Every time you leave the door, you don’t.”

Elias opens the door and pokes his head in then, and with a hesitant voice, he says, “Even, they need you back for the encore, man.”

Even nods, stands, and with one last glance at his husband, he leaves.

Even doesn’t ask Isak to stay this time.

**x**

Here’s also what happened in Sacramento: Even and Isak falling in the same bed.

When Even wakes up, the bed is empty.

He feels cold all over.

Then the shower starts in the background.

He feels colder.

Sacramento is where Isak says, “I don’t want to go back to Norway,” with an air of finality and no matter how hard Even railed against it, nothing would change his mind.

Sacramento is Even finally realizing that his cause is a lost one.

He has a million things that he wants to say, but what comes out of his mouth is - “So what now?”

Because that _is_ the question, isn’t it? 

What now?


	5. and finally, the choice

Even came back to Norway alone.


	6. nine minutes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Even really is still trying to know him despite nine years of being together, and he’ll never stop trying to know him, so yes, Even’s leaving, Even will leave, but he’s coming back, of course he’s coming back. He’s always going to come back to Isak, because Isak is right, nowhere is home when he’s not there - nowhere is home when Isak’s not with Even, so he’s coming back to California, because that’s where Isak is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feat. a semi-obnoxious photographer, a nosy interviewer, and one last question
> 
> Song:
> 
> Did I Love You (Like I Promised To) - Flipturn
> 
> I cannot emphasize this enough: listen to this damn song while reading.

12 states, 17 cities, 18 shows, 2 months spent on the road, and the journalist just asked them to describe the whole North American tour experience in three words.

Even merely suppresses an audible sigh. 

They’ve been at this all day. Eskild woke them up bright and early for the preplanned press conference and then a bunch more interviews for various local American magazines before they do the last show tonight. A photoshoot for The Fader was scheduled in between as well, and the semi-obnoxious photographer kept on asking him to _show me those pearly teeth and give me a dazzling smile, Mr. Even, you’ll be on the cover page of a magazine!_ in his perfect Boston accent, botching the pronunciation of his name in the process, and Even’s just about ready to walk out right then and there. Eskild had to pull him in the corner and gave him ‘the’ tour manager talk, telling him that _now’s not the time to pull the diva card, Even. Look alive; this is the last day, for heaven’s sake!_ and then gave him a 10-minute breather to compose himself.

It was useless.

When he came back to the studio still brooding, the photographer seemed to have finally read the room, and the remainder of the shoot was spent in relative silence. 

Now, they are all huddled in the front lounge couch of the tour bus doing the last press for today, and Even needed a drink three hours ago.

It’s a couple of seconds of silence in the bus as they all mull over their respective answers.

Jonas is the first one who speaks: awesome, hot, euphoric

Mikael’s answer goes: overwhelming, life-altering ( _“-those are two words, dumbass-” “-no, it’s not, you illiterate fuck-” “children, fy faen!”),_ fantastic

And then there’s Eva’s: tiring, tiring, _tiring_

Even smirks. That seems accurate enough.

The journalist then turns his head to Even, anticipating his answer.

See, Even is a man of words, that much has already been established. But at this moment, his mind is blank. He simply cannot find the right epithet to satisfy the question - or maybe he does, but it surely cannot be surmised in just three words, because the way Even sees it is like this:

New York City is the beginning. Isak started playing the game, and Even was a willing participant.

Philadelphia was lonely. Even needed to be high to convince himself that Isak’s absence was not palpable at all.

Washington was beige. Isak had come and gone, and Bethlehem and Mashantucket flew by in a haze.

Boston was nostalgic because Isak found him, and Even is so in love.

Akron was sexy. Isak had a beard and Even had a beard burn.

Chicago was plain pitiful. Even played _August_ for the first time because it was their anniversary, and Isak left.

That brought El Paso bitter, Albuquerque sad and Phoenix angry.

Las Vegas was _still_ bitter, but Isak was sorry, so Even made do.

San Diego was so, so hot and Even’s sweating profusely but it’s okay, because Even was Isak’s and Isak was Even’s.

Los Angeles was pure, unadulterated tension, because Even was homesick, and apparently, Isak was home.

Santa Barbara was where Even has had enough of the fucking game because what’s the point? Isak was not coming back with him, anyway.

San Jose was spent in silence, except then it was loud in Sacramento because Isak heard _Brutally,_ but more so because his wedding song is playing on the fucking radio.

And by the looks of it, New York’s just the beginning as it is the end, because Isak had said he’s not coming back home, so Even went back for the last show alone.

So, to sum it up, journo, it’s _Isak, Isak, Isak._

**x**

They’re doing the final show at Radio City Music Hall, because in the words of Yousef himself, _if we’re going out, we’re going out with a bang._

There’s already a pre-party happening backstage, but an hour before showtime, Even finds himself sitting on one of the barstools at the concession bar inside the building. This time however, the bartender has recognized him in an instant, because when Even sits, he exclaims, “Mr. Bech Næsheim! What can I get you, sir?"

Even asks for a gin and tonic, and then for _more ice, please_. He gets a confused look from the bartender then, the smile plastered on his face quivering a little bit, but it’s gone within the blink of an eye and goes straight to work. Even thinks that such a reaction is justified because it’s almost freezing cold inside the premises. 

Even has come to learn that apparently, New York in August is the same in September: stifling, and almost two months have gone by and nothing has changed, but for Even, everything is about to.

The whole place is buzzing. On the way to the bar, he heard from one of the roadies he bypassed that there has been a line outside since yesterday. Even the concession bar is a bit crowded at the moment - he even had to hide and wait for a couple of minutes before there’s a seat opening, and even then he’s finding it hard to breathe. It’s hot outside, but it’s cold within the premises, and yet he’s sweating, and the bartender - Jack - is back with his drink, and he’s asking, “Are you okay, Mr. Bech Næsheim? You look a little hot. Do you want us to amp the AC?” but Even shakes his head no, because that’s not exactly why he’s feeling clammy.

He’s perspiring like a pig because there are eyes on him now, a deep contrast to his first time in New York, and there’s this particular dude unashamedly staring at him from across the room and _can’t he see Even’s wearing a wedding ring?_ _The nerve of some people, really -_ but then again he’s used to these looks, so it doesn’t bother him that much. 

What really makes him feel so dreadful is the fact that today’s the last show of the tour, but more so because _today is the last show of the tour_ and ‘the talk’ is looming closer and closer every passing seconds and _fuck it_ he doesn’t think he’s ready; he’s not fucking ready to do this at all, and Even’s sweating more now, if that’s even possible, then suddenly the seat next to him opens and _why the fuck is this dude walking up to him now_ \- 

Even sighs and quells an eye roll.

“That seat’s taken,” he preempts.

The man pauses, looks around obnoxiously for a show - Even has half a mind to _not_ suppress rolling his eyes - and says, “The seat’s empty?” 

The tone was so condescending Even has to grit his teeth to ground himself. “And the bartender’s right, you do look a little _hot_.”

Even sighs audibly loud then.

“I’m married,” he deadpans. “As a matter of fact, I’m waiting for my husband.”

The man has the audacity to snort. “Well that’s a surprise.”

And - _what the fuck?_

“Excuse me?” Even says, deeply offended at the insinuation. “I don’t know what your deal is, but my husband kind of has a thing with punching people who get a little too close to me without my consent, so I suggest you back off, dude.”

“Dude?” he laughs.

To say that Even is annoyed is an understatement.

“Sorry, _dude_. I just recognized you. I’ve been to some of your gigs. Didn’t know you were married though.”

“Well I am.”

The man hums. “Well, that is something to write about.”

Even takes one good look at him and asks, “Who are you again?”

“I’m writing about your band. I talked with your manager Eksil or something, and he told me you’re around here somewhere. He also asked me to bring you backstage if I find you. Said you’re a flight risk before shows.”

And _well_ -

The man shrugs. “I’m just doing my job, _dude_.”

The tease fell silent on Even’s ears. “I only have nine minutes.”

“Sure,” the man easily agrees and starts. “I’ve been to some of your shows here, and I’ve noticed that there’s a lot of new songs included in this tour, which is unlike the shows you did in Europe. I’m working an article on that in particular.”

Even thinks for a second. “Well, my husband - Isak, he’s been with us,” he says. 

The man’s still looking at him expectantly, so he adds, “I like writing songs about him.”

“This husband, what does he do?”

Even raises an eyebrow.

“Off the record, of course,” he says abruptly. “I don’t wanna pry too much, and not to be offensive or anything but I don’t think your fans would particularly care about your husband. They’d care that you’re married, though.”

“Well I don’t care what people think.”

The man releases a surprised chuckle. “You’re kind of rude for someone who’s about to have an entire cover story written for you, don’t you think?”

This time, Even does roll his eyes.

“What do you want to know?”

“The new songs. People have been asking for the singles. They’re particularly enamoured with _Beige_ and that song in Chicago, _August_?”

“All Isak’s,” Even says simply.

The man looks at him for a few silent seconds, and then - “I’ve read some articles about your origin story, and I am a bit confused. I saw that Hozier tweet though. Don’t like the dude much, to be honest, but that rendition is _wow_.”

And - _did this dude just say he doesn’t like Hozier?_

“Did you just say you don’t like Hozier?”

The man shrugs again. He seems to like shrugging. 

“Nah. Too Jesus-looking.”

This time, Even can’t help it - the laugh escapes from his mouth against his will. He then shakes his head and with a faraway fond look on his face, he says, “Don’t let my husband hear that. He’d bite your head off.”

There’s an amused smile playing on his lips. “You keep on mentioning your husband.”

Even nods. “Of course. He’s my muse. Always been, always will be. Every new song is about him or is dedicated to him.” The words glide out of Even’s mouth so easily.

He pauses, ponders for a moment, and then says, “And those new songs, there seems to be a theme. Longing, desperation,” and then quietly, in the softest, most wistful voice Even has ever heard, “Going home.”

And just like that, right in front of his very eyes, the illusion shatters.

They’ve reached the end of the game, and Even sees the bravado remove from the man, and all he can see now is his husband - _Isak_ , who is _really_ good with this game - their _thing_ \- and his ‘transformation’, because without a hitch, he’s back to looking so soft (but what else is new), and he’s now staring deeply into Even’s eyes, seemingly looking for answers to questions not yet asked.

Even left Sacramento with full resignation heavy on his shoulders and such desperate trepidation he couldn’t even begin to fathom. Nothing was resolved when they walked away from each other, and Even never thought he’d feel so heartbroken leaving California, but then again, he was also leaving Isak, so.

And now here they are a few days later. The tour’s just about done, and they’re still playing, but Even’s the one who instigated it this time, because when he walked in and saw his husband sitting on one of the booths looking as if the Earth just fell down on him, there’s no other way to put it - his heart, it shattered. 

So pulling the last bravado he could ever muster, Even ignored him and headed straight to the bar to try to calm his nerves. That didn’t work and he just started sweating instead, because the truth and fact is that he does not know how to approach this; he _cannot_ go into this head-on.

Even needed to pretend for a while, to set all the anguish aside just this once, to just sit and talk and maybe convince Isak and himself - of what, he does not have any fucking clue. Isak, his smart, observant husband, seemed to have read the room immediately because he perfectly played Even’s game. 

So for nine minutes, they played.

But nine minutes come and go just as easily, and now their time is almost up.

Eskild appears in his peripheral vision then, and his eyes are evidently sharp and deeply focused. 

“There you two are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere! You!” He jabs a finger at Even’s chest, “I still have a bone to pick with you with all these disappearing acts, _herregud!_ You are not going to do this to me again, Bech Næsheim. Backstage, now!”

This is not the first time Eskild interrupted a very crucial moment (God knows how many orgasms Even and Isak were deprived of because of his habit of just barging into their flat without notice), but for once he’s glad for Eskild’s sudden appearance, because while Even does have an answer, he’s too afraid of what will come after.

He sighs deep and makes a move to stand. “Your nine minutes are up.”

“Even,” Isak grapples, a tinge of desperation apparent in his voice. “Mr. Bech Næsheim, wait. One last question? Please?”

Isak is playing one last time, Even catches on quickly.

He waits for Even’s nod before asking, “What’s next? After this tour? Are you going back to Norway?”

He only stares.

”What’s next, Even?” Isak urges, voice soft.

Even stands, glances at his husband and says, “I think I’ll have to get back to you on that,” before he walks away.

And well, what do you know - it really does only take nine minutes.

**x**

Two hours later and just like that, they’re done.

They’ve bagged it. 12 states, 17 cities, 18 shows and 2 months spent on the road. 

It’s done now.

But Even isn’t - not just yet.

Because he may have an answer, but there’s still one last question he has yet to ask.

It was a peculiar decision to end the whole tour with a new song for the encore, but it was a consensual one. The whole Radio City Music Hall vibrates in anticipation as they all go back to the stage, and a deafening roar comes from the crowd as the lights fall dark. Even catches Eva nodding at him before raising the drumsticks above her head to indicate everyone to get ready and he feels Mikael and Jonas clap his back as he leads the short opening chords, stepping up to the mic and calls out to Isak. 

_Lovely,_ he sings, _keep me company. Give me love and nicotine. You’re killing me,_ Isak _,_ baby _. I do believe you’re killing me._

 _We have grown so damn old,_ he croons _. We were just young days ago, when we’d fall in love each week, and when we had no words to speak._

 _But_ Isak, hey _, did I hold you like I’m supposed to do?_

_Did I love you like I promised to?_

Even finally blinks his eyes open and look over at the crowd, and he’s there, and he’s nodding, _yes, you did,_ and there are tears in Isak’s beautiful, beautiful eyes, but he’s smiling so, so wide, and suddenly there are tears in his, too, and Even’s fucking flying.

_Every morning, I watched you put on your skin, and years went by, but you’re still having trouble with it. But then again, who was I to think that I could stop the tide?_

_I’m still trying to know you,_ he ends the song. _I’m still trying to know you,_ love _._

Even’s answer is this: there is no choice. There has never been a choice. 

It’s always, _always_ going to be Isak.

And Even really is still trying to know him despite nine years of being together, and he’ll never stop trying to know him, so yes, Even’s leaving, Even will leave, but he’s coming back, _of course_ he’s coming back. He’s always going to come back to Isak, because Isak is right, nowhere is home when he’s not there - nowhere is home when Isak’s not with Even, so he’s coming back to California, because that’s where Isak is.

**x**

Even never came back to California.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when i say i'm a hoe for angst, i really really really mean it, guys.


	7. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a tough pill to swallow, of course - finally realizing that while Even’s world swimmingly revolves around Isak, not everything is about Even in Isak’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ft. an existential crisis episode in the middle of a groceries store, pregnancy shenanigans and the end
> 
> Song:
> 
> Chicago - Flipturn

_one year later_

Even’s in the groceries store, currently having an existential crisis, and he finds the strawberry looking vaguely familiar. 

As a matter of fact, it feels like the red, juicy fruit is staring right back at him, so maybe he’s not just having an existential crisis; maybe he’s straight-up going batshit crazy now. 

The thing is, Even has been in a funk for days, or weeks or months now, even. He hasn’t slept properly for God knows how long, and on top of that, he’s getting all these calls from Mikael almost always at the most inopportune time because he’s just started seeing this girl and he _never_ shuts up about her, so it’s all _you have got to meet her, Ev, I think I’m in love!_ and that’s usually received with _hva faen,_ _Mik, I’m taking a fucking dump, will you give it a fucking rest?_

There’s also Eskild who’s no better because he keeps on calling Even in the middle of the goddamn night, wailing about how much he misses him, the road and the band, and _for God’s sake Eskild, it’s three in the fucking morning!_

The band took an indefinite hiatus in October. 

They didn’t make an official statement or anything at first because they just finished a whole intercontinental tour, but fans were curious about the new songs in the setlist and they all wanted to know when and where the next tour was gonna be.

Everyone in the band was mum about it, but then just two months after the North American tour, a fan video circulated on the internet, and even though it was blurry and the one holding the camera was very visibly shaking, it was clear as light as day that it was a drunk Jonas gleefully screaming, _not for another nine months at least!_ with a frantic-looking Even and Mikael pulling him down from the top of the table and a thoroughly unamused Eva in the background.

As it turned out, Eva was already two months pregnant that October, and Even refuses to think that he had witnessed specifically _when_ and _how_ it happened, because if his calculations are correct - and he’s pretty sure it is, Eva got knocked up when they were in San Diego, and his future godchild was conceived through a fucking quickie in a goddamn tour bus bathroom.

The crappy video trended for a whole day, and it earned a still very hangover Jonas a rightful thump in the head from Eskild, then followed by the tightest hug, and suddenly all five of them are hugging and jumping and laughing-crying from pure elation because that may not be how they wanted it to be announced to the world, but the cat’s finally out of the bag. It’s finally sinking in to everybody that Eva’s fucking pregnant. They’re going to have a baby. Jonas, _the fucking idiot_ , is going to be a father.

The next few months were quite a roller coaster of a ride. Even feels silly now when he had thought that they’d have some sense of peace and quiet since the tour just ended, because boy was he _wrong_. Rumors started spreading about Eva’s pregnancy, and people started following them everywhere. It’s quite scary to learn the veracity of their fans’ capabilities to stalk just to confirm or deny the suspicions. Even still gets shivers whenever he thinks about it, particularly when it got to the point where people started following him back to the house, so much so that he had to hire extra security for a month.

The whole pregnancy had taken quite a toll on everybody, but on Jonas, especially, because apparently a not pregnant Eva is already a force to be reckoned with, but a pregnant Eva is just a pure _nightmare_.

Almost all the times they hung out the month after they all knew was spent with Jonas complaining (while Eva’s in the bathroom, of course, and _damn_ she’s in the bathroom a lot she may as well have just stayed there for the whole night) (Even didn’t know pregnant women releases so much liquid so much) because she was having all these late night cravings, asking for goddamn pickles and marshmallows in the middle of the night, and those three Eva-free minutes were all _I know she’s just doing it to fuck with me guys, cravings happen at least at the end of the first trimester!_ and then Mikael would snort and say, “How do you even know that?”, and Jonas, with a haughty look on his face, retorted, “Because I read, Mikael, you should try it sometime,” and Mikael would be quick to say, “Oh yeah? Then why are you still a fucking idiot?” and then they roughhouse in the middle of the fucking living room until Eva came back.

Even had figured that Jonas was only petulant because he was not allowed to smoke anymore - not when Eva’s within the vicinity, at least, so on the third month of the pregnancy, he started calling them up instigating for an exclusive boys’ night out, and he thought he was so slick about it for the first three meetings, even arrogantly saying that _Eva thinks I’m visiting my cousin with three kids - Mitch, you know him - to feel the environment, whatever the fuck that means. Well I am feeling something now, and it’s not a bad environment, not a bad environment at all_ , and then Elias would high five him, but then on the fourth one, Eva called and on loud speaker, she spoke with the gravest voice Even has ever heard saying that _if you don’t get your shit right soon, Jonas, I swear to anything holy this baby will grow up without a fucking father._

That sobered Jonas right up. The short-lived exclusive boys’ night out ended soon after and never happened nor spoken of again.

Everyone was so involved in the pregnancy Even felt like he’s just stepped into the world of _Three Men and a Baby_ without the actual baby. There were times when he had to step in for Jonas for monthly check-ups when the bastard was sick, but he’d rather be there doing that than when Mikael had to step in for a Lamaze class. He wasn’t informed that it was a yoga day session, so he had to wear a borrowed spandex from one of the dads that was a bit tight on the crotch. Eva never, even for once, forgot to remind him of that since then.

The actual giving birth was another story. 

In hindsight, it was all Jonas’ fault, because of course it is. He was the one who insisted on driving to Stockholm because he managed to get a contact from an infamous local bar which apparently manufactures the best craft beers in all Scandanavian region, and _it’s just perfect for Constitution Day, guys, come on!_

It was him who managed to persuade Mikael into driving him, who in turn managed to pull Even into it, and of course Eva who was then only a week before her due date refused to be left behind so she tagged along. 

It was a fun road trip, albeit a long one, and they only had to pull over approximately 20 times for Eva’s bathroom breaks. Everything was good, the sun was shining so bright in mid-May, they were all feeling refreshed, and the baby was still happily staying in Eva’s stomach -

Until it wasn’t.

It was Jonas who woke Even up early the next day asking him to pick up the alcohol with him from the bar which was apparently still one town away from their hotel, and then out of nowhere, while they were still loading the crates of beer in the trunk, they received a call from a very frantic Mikael to _get your asses back here right fucking now there’s a baby coming out of Eva holy shit holy shit holy motherfucking shit -_

Mikael was forced to bring Eva to the nearest hospital all by himself, and the Swedish nurses could not understand a thing of what he was saying; apparently, they just assumed that he was the father, and he was trying so hard to remove himself from the delivery room but they were adamant that he stay and be there for moral support. Mikael witnessed the whole thing, and when a frazzled Jonas and Even finally came to the hospital, the scene that welcomed them was a passed out Mikael in the corner and a tiny human being held in Eva's arms.

Safe to say that Mikael was traumatized to the core, and thinking about all their shenanigans, Even decides to take it back: the pregnancy definitely took a toll on Mikael the most.

And that was that. 

Fast forward a couple of months and Mikael is declaring that he has found himself the ‘future mother of his children’, Eva _is_ a mother, Jonas who wears the most ridiculous statement t-shirts _still_ wears the same shirts, only now with a baby sling carrier to cover it, and everything’s good and well with everyone, and then there’s Even who’s having an existential crisis while having a staring contest with a fucking strawberry of all things, and _what has his life become, really?_

Just then, Even vividly remembers that one particular time when Jonas called him up at two in the morning asking where he could find sauerkraut and after the ‘ _why the fuck are you asking me?’ ‘because you’re the only freak I know who puts that shit on pizza’_ banter and Jonas still haven’t found the damn food anywhere after an hour, Even had finally revealed that his sauerkraut is homemade and then told Jonas to just stop by his place and take his jar, and the rest of the phone call was Jonas cursing him while on his way.

Opening the door with the jar of sauerkraut in his hand, Even was greeted by a sobbing Jonas, and the night was spent consoling his friend because _I’m just so fucking tired, Even_ and Even would rub his back while saying, _well, man, you should’ve cloaked the joker before you poked her,_ and he’d receive the deadliest glare but it’s okay because after that, he was sending a semi-calm Jonas on his merry way. 

That happened a couple more times with different cravings each, whether it be a durian or surstromming or fucking chicken’s feet, and every single time Jonas will have a crying session for at least 30 minutes in Even’s living room, asking him _why the fuck do I feel so drained when the baby’s not even here yet and I’m not even the one carrying_ , and Even had no answer at all, but thinking about it now, he wonders if what he’s been feeling at the moment is what Jonas had been feeling then, and then he thinks that’s completely absurd because he doesn’t have a pregnant girlfriend or a baby, but then again he has an _Isak_ and Isak in a mood could definitely rival a pregnant Eva in a mood.

It would be a funny comparison and he’d laugh if he has the energy for it.

Even’s just tired, see, so fucking exhausted, and that’s saying something considering that he’s capable of doing a full two-hour back-to-back shows and still fuck Isak until he passes out in between. He feels so fucking delirious as he stands in the frozen aisle of the groceries store, and he’s staring at the last pack of strawberry in the counter for ten minutes? Ten years? Even has no idea and he honestly cannot give a fuck anymore. 

All he can feel is the pain in his back similar to that he had felt on mornings when he used to spend the night sleeping on floors, the pounding of his head which has not relented for days now, and the seeping deliriousness for all the sleep he had lost because aside from Eskild’s midnight shenanigans, there’s this _tap tap tap_ from the bedroom ceiling which Even cannot for the life of him figure out the cause.

And, to make matters worse, he just argued with Isak over the phone again, and it feels like everything’s just going downhill, and has been for quite a while now. 

Even cannot believe that it has come to this - just petty arguments over petty arguments. Right now, albeit the guilty feeling seeping through his bones, Even thinks that he made the right choice leaving him.

The phone call was half an hour ago, and Even is still stewing in his anger because Isak’s throwing it in his face again, with the usual _well, if you’d just come back, you’d know -_ and Even is just so done with the conversation he hung up right then and there.

Even knows his husband like the back of his hand; he knows what makes him laugh, what makes his toes curl, and what irks him the most. In fact, he takes pride of being the ultimate expert to the fine specimen that is Isak Bech Næsheim, so he knows that there’d be a hell to pay for hanging up the phone when Isak was still talking, but he figures he’d deal with the aftermath later, right after he’s done figuring out why this particular strawberry seems to exist solely for the purpose of taunting him, bringing him back to that one fateful afternoon in sunny LA, when there were laughters and sticky kisses and old, bitter people complaining about _this vulgar couple who’s just straight up licking each other on aisle 8_ and for a split second, Even feels slightly better as he goes down the memory lane.

That seems like lightyears away when it’s really only been a year, and _God_ has it only been a year? _Really?_ Even swears he can still feel Isak’s tongue lapping over his whole face, and he can still remember the sweet, sweet smell permeating the air they shared. Even if a year has passed, he can still vividly hear the boom of their laughter mixed together inside the almost empty supermarket, and that was one hell of a day, really. Just how can he ever forget how risqué Isak was when he swallowed him whole in the bathroom of that restopub, an unsubtle act of conveying _mine mine mine!_ , and how glorious and liberated he felt when he held hands with him while playing tourist in the City of Angels, and _fucking hell_ \- the onslaught of the memories is just _killing_ him.

The point is, Even misses his husband so much and he cannot believe he’s on the verge of breaking down in the middle of the goddamn groceries store.

He can feel the tears starting to form in his eyes, and he just feels downright pathetic now, but then out of nowhere his train of thoughts and _feelings_ is interrupted by this douchebag whose hand is now reaching over the pack of strawberries Even believes he’s just started to have an emotional and spiritual connection with and just no, no, _no -_

“No, no, no, that’s mine,” he prompts, highly agitated because _how dare he take the pack, can’t he see Even’s having a moment with it?_

“I don’t think so.”

And _no_ , this is not happening, not this time, so Even blurts, “But that’s already spoken for!”

The _douche_ doesn’t seem to like Even’s tone, so they started squabbling in aisle 5 of the groceries store, and it's a series of _‘I held it first!’_ , but _‘I’ve been literally putting it on my cart!’_ , and _‘No, you were literally just staring at it for fifteen minutes’_ , and Even seriously has had _enough_ , so with all the urgency and a tinge bit of desperation that he could muster, he says, “Okay, dude, I _need_ this, come on, man, please-” but then - “-I need this _more_ , man, you don’t understand-” and Even just does not have time for this _at all._

Even left the shop strawberry-less.

The store was only a nine-minute away from home by foot, and he refuses to go back with this kind of mood, so despite how he’s just dying to bury himself in the comfort of his duvet and sleep for years maybe, probably, definitely, Even decides right then and there to round the neighborhood, all the while contemplating his recent life decisions - 

If he should’ve insisted more on the name _Evan_ for Eva and Jonas’ new baby.

If he should’ve gotten more mad at the mattress place because _I gave you the exact address - how in the world did you manage to get it to Cairo?_

If it was a good decision that he’d worn a parka today - obviously not since he’s feeling overheated now.

If he fought more, if he _should’ve_ fought more, if he did enough, if he _was_ enough, if he should’ve pushed further for the ownership of the damn strawberries because it was obviously fucking spoken for already.

If it was the right decision to leave Isak and go back to Norway alone.

Even stops from his walk so abrupt that he gets bumped and subsequently cursed by the harried-looking lady walking behind him in the process. 

Such thought disappears in the back of his mind just as fast as it came, and Even finds himself releasing his first laugh of the day because of how extremely absurd that line of thinking was.

Of course it wasn’t a bad decision. It wasn’t a bad decision at all. In fact, it was one of the best decisions of Even’s life.

See, the thought of leaving Oslo felt like a pipe dream. Even Bech Næsheim is certifiably born and bred in Norway. It’s where he lived all his life, where his whole family is, where he met all his friends, and it’s where he built his career from the ground. Even loves the climate so much, the beautiful fjords, the kind, comfortable vibe he gets from his fellow countrymen, and just the wholesome sense of tranquility of it all.

It’s also where he met Isak.

So see, Norway has always been his home. It _is_ home, but Even has come to learn, albeit late, that it isn’t. 

And California isn’t, either.

The thing is, Even never came back to California, because that’s not where his home is.

His home is currently sitting on one of the barstools of the kitchen island in their new Chicago apartment with an apologetic look all over his face, and a very familiar pack of strawberries in front of him.

Even and Isak hold each other’s gazes for a second, and then -

“I _really_ needed it more,” Isak speaks first, and it was quiet, and years of being with this man makes it easier for Even to convey it as an apology, an _I’m sorry for forgetting to buy the strawberries but you knew the store owner gives me the creeps, baby._ It’s also an _I’m sorry for shouting at you over the phone but if you had just let me finish speaking then, you’d know that if you’d just come back here, you_ would _know that we don’t really need strawberries at all because apparently, there’s a whole pack of it in the freezer._

“I know, babe,” Even responds, and he knows Isak hears it as an _I forgive you, baby, the store owner really is creepy, and I know we have extra strawberries; I just realized on the way back here that I bought a whole pack last week._ It is also an _I’m sorry for walking out and leaving you earlier, love, but we really need the strawberries if you want to make a strawberry daiquiri_ and an _I’m most especially sorry for hanging up on you; I know it’s one of your countless pet peeves,_ and lastly, a tiny plea of _please don’t take the sex off the table again._

Even takes a good look at his husband then, his beautiful, lovely Isak, and he realizes that he looks just as exhausted as Even feels. That’s probably because Sana has constantly been at his throat for weeks because his papers for the LLM program has not yet been finalized and the academic year starts on the first week of October, and on top of that, they have moved into their new apartment for a month now and they have only unpacked almost one-third of the boxes, corners of the flat still stacked high with random boxes containing miscellaneous items. 

They have been sleeping on the lumpy, old mattress that the past owner of the house left because the delivery of the mattress they ordered was late since it’s in fucking Cairo, Illinois and how they managed to interchange that from Chicago, Illinois is beyond him. 

They’ve been living off of takeouts like freaking college students because they cannot figure out how the stove works, and Isak is too apprehensive to let Even near it because it might explode and _don’t give me that look, Even Bech Næsheim, you never know with these American appliances, okay? I’m not ready to be a widower - fucking stop laughing!_

Even’s meeting new people left and right everyday for the past two weeks because he’s thinking of engaging in some sort of business and make himself useful while Isak takes his masters, and they’ve both been so busy it feels like he hasn’t seen his husband even if they fall in the same bed (lumpy mattress) every night, and it’s so ridiculous just how much he misses him right now when Isak’s here right in front of him, his pretty mouth already covered in sticky strawberry juice. 

Even dares to think that this longing feeling he’s having at the moment could probably rival those many lonely nights way back in September when he just came back to Norway without Isak.

Right after Even left America, Isak accepted the offered position, not because it’s more important than their marriage - of fucking course not, but because he’d be stupid not to. That’s what Even told himself _and_ Isak when he came up with the decision back in New York that fateful night in September. 

Even had chosen to respect Isak’s decision about not coming back to Norway, and Isak had chosen to remain married to Even no matter what, but also _I need to do this, Even, just to prove something for myself. I hope you understand, baby. I know you do._ And Even understands. Of course he does.

It was a tough pill to swallow, of course - finally realizing that while Even’s world swimmingly revolves around Isak, not everything is about Even in Isak’s. And truly, he admires his husband for it; how ambitious of a person he is, and a fucking smart one at that, too. He’s so proud that Isak’s finally come to learn at the very least to like his profession, so much so that he’s willing to study again and earn a masteral degree a year later.

Even loves how Isak stood his ground and fought for what he wanted - because he knows what he wants now, and at the same time took a stand and adamantly refused to let his drive hinder his relationship with Even. In turn, Even adamantly refused to let fucking distance ruin his marriage.

He realized all this that same night he sang Isak that song back in New York. It was an abrupt decision, but Even knew for a long time then that it was the right thing to do, and at that crucial time in their relationship, to do the right thing is the only way for them to move forward.

Even has then decided that New York was more of beginnings than endings. 

He will never forget how badly he was shaking right after the last show ended, but one touch from Isak calmed him right down. That night, they decided to skip the after party and went straight to Petrille’s, the dingy dive bar where it all started. There they finally talked, and it was probably the most serious and the most pivotal one they ever had. It was them who closed the place at two in the morning, and even after having what seemed to be the longest night of Even’s life, they chose to remain outside until sunrise.

At one moment, as they found themselves seated side by side on the grassy grounds of Central Park and it felt like Even’s chest had finally settled for once, he noticed Isak giving him a look he couldn’t decipher, and that was so unusual in itself that he had to ask, “What?”

Isak sighed heavily, pausing for a moment as if to brace himself, and with an absolutely blundered French accent, he delivered in English, “It’s just . . . it’s depressing, no? Now, the only thing we’re gonna think of is when we’re going to say goodbye tomorrow.”

And Even had to turn his face away from Isak just to contain what seemed to be the biggest smile that was trying to break out of his face. For a moment, he had to look up, clear his mind and just breathe. It was so bizarre thinking about the series of emotions that he went through that night, how heartbroken he was just a few hours ago because of this man, but it was also because of this very same man sitting beside him that Even’s heart felt like jumping out of his chest as he recited an excerpt of _Before Sunrise._

Really, what a wonder one Isak Bech Næsheim could do to one Even Bech Næsheim.

Finally composing himself, Even dutifully recited back, “We can say goodbye now. Then we won’t worry about it in the morning.”

To act out the particular scene more faithfully, Even then grabbed Isak’s hands and stroked it the same way Jesse held Celine’s hands in the film.

“Now?”

“Say goodbye,” he urged.

“Bye!”

“Goodbye!”

“ _Au revoir!_ ”

The way Isak had absolutely botched the French word pushed the release of the loudest laughs in their bellies which Even thinks could have easily awoken the whole Central Park at three in the morning. 

When Isak proceeded to lie on the ground and said in a faux-dreamy voice, “This is a great morning,” Even easily agreed and quoted the same response in the film, “Do you think we’ll have others like this?” 

And while they were both aware that they were still playing, it felt incredible how the sentiment served with a double meaning.

Even’s smile was so wide it was already painful when Isak derived away from the script and he said, “Of course.”

“Do you know what I want?” Isak asked a while later.

“What?”

“To be kissed.”

“Well, I can do that.”

And Even kissed Isak just as passionately as Jesse kissed Celine, maybe even more.

Isak pushed him off gently then, and Even knew right then and there what he was about to say, because they were already at the scene where Celine was trying to tell Jesse that they shouldn’t sleep together. So when Isak opened his mouth and said, “I have to say something stu-”

“ _Fuck, no_.” 

Then he pounced.

In the end, they didn’t get to reenact the scene. Turns out, Central Park is never ever empty, even at three in the morning, and while Even has a lawyer for a husband, he’s not keen on being charged with a crime in a foreign land and have ‘public lewdness’ attached to his semi-clean record.

It just so happened that that was not their last night together in America. Even had decided to stay back and spend a few more days in the city with Isak, and it was hands down one of the best days of his life. 

When Even finally had to leave for Norway, it was with a heavy heart, but a lighter one than that when he first arrived in America for the tour.

They made their choices that night in New York, and it’s as simple as this: Even chose Isak, and Isak chose Even.

And when it came to it, he realized that he could do it after all - the long distance thing. They had already done it for a year, and they sure as hell could do it again, and this time, they’d do it right, too. So with the help of his friends, some LDR-related blogs on the internet, and an abundant Chicken Soup for the Soul books, Even managed to lessen the longing he felt as days went by. He took it minute per minute, because that was exactly what Isak told him as they parted in JFK Airport. 

“Minute per minute, love,” Isak whispered in his ears.

“Minute per minute,” Even had whispered right back.

Even also realized that the first time was only painfully hard because _he_ made it painfully hard, and he takes full blame for it even though Isak never threw it back to his face. Just another reason why he’s so obsessed with the man.

Then again, Even can’t give himself too much credit. Isak only held the position for three months, after all. 

Because while it was Isak and Even who made their own choices, it was Sana who ultimately sealed their fate.

It happened one rainy November night when Isak was knocking on her door for the fourth consecutive time that week. When Sana finally opened, Isak was greeted with, “You’re fired. Go home, Isak.”

“ _What_ \- I don’t want-”

“You know what I mean. I already talked to Harry and it’s all good. You’re fired. Go. _Home_.” Then she slammed the door right on his face.

And that was that.

Or - that’s how Isak told the story, at least. 

Even believed him then, because it’s Sana and that was such a _Sana_ thing to do, but he also knew that what came after was much more complicated than that - he was just fired from his job, after all. Even still, as Isak continued to rehash what happened over the phone, all that was running on Even’s mind was _Bârakah Allâh, Sana Bakkoush, you absolute angel you._

By December, Isak was back in Norway after more than a year abroad.

And just like before, Isak has always been in the picture since then, except for that fateful road trip because Eskild had already booked his help for the upcoming Constitution Day. He was so upset with Mikael because _it’s so unfair that you got to witness the miracle when I’m the only person that pregnant Eva can tolerate,_ and Mikael was so appalled when he responded back, ‘ _trust me, Isak, if we could just turn back time, I’d happily volunteer myself and suffer Eskild’s wrath than to be there’_ and _‘do you even have any idea what a whole head looks like coming out of a hoo-ha -' ‘-fucking stop calling my vagina that, Mikael, for fuck’s sake!’_

Isak was the one who suggested that Yousef and Sana host their annual Christmas celebration, the latter adamantly against it because _we don’t even celebrate Christmas Isak, you absolute idiot._ The whole gang had to make a poll for it, and it turns out their collective pleas combined could withstand Sana’s infamous unrelenting glare, and that was a Christmas miracle in itself.

It was Isak’s cherry-tasting mouth that was attached to Even’s as they welcomed the new year together a few days later, because of course it is.

It was also Even and Isak’s last winter holiday celebration with their friends because as it happened, that December was Isak’s last December in Norway, too.

A month after Eva gave birth and everything has seemingly calmed down - or as calm as it could be considering that there’s a new addition to their family, a tiny human who could scream the whole house down at three in the morning, earning Eva and Jonas matching perpetual eyebags - was when Even and Isak finally announced that they were moving.

As expected, their friends went berserk. Eskild started bawling, and Mikael started threatening them with a _you know what, I’m not going to talk to you idiots until you realize that that’s the stupidest thing you’ll ever do, starting now!_ , but surprisingly, it was Eva who showed the most indignance -

“You absolutely cannot move! I can’t have Mikael as the baby’s godparent; he almost always drops it!”

“ _Hey!_ May I remind you that it wasn’t Jonas who saw that baby come out of your hoo-ha -”

“-Mikael, I swear to God-”

“-he, our baby is a he, Eva-” 

\- then Eskild’s bawl went louder. 

Finally, Yousef - because he’s the most normal person in their group - spoke, and he was the one who said, “That’s great news, guys! And Chicago’s perfect, because I remember you looked really happy there-”

“-will you stop fucking encouraging them!-”

“-it’s so far-”

“I myself think it’s great,” Jonas says, bouncing a sleeping Adrian in his chest. “We all saw how happy these doofuses were in Chicago. You were even with them when you got that drumstick tatt. Come on, where’s your sense of romance, babe-”

“-It’s going to be up your ass if you don’t shut the fuck up, Jonas!”

By the looks of it, a postpartum Eva is just as nightmarish as a pregnant Eva.

Jonas and Eva started bickering like an old married couple then, and Mikael stopped sulking and instead started watching them in merriment, and Yousef’s tiredly rubbing his temple because Eskild is still fucking bawling, all the while an amused Even who was sat on the loveseat with an equally amused Isak on his lap watched as the whole thing happen, and then they looked at each other and just shared a smile.

 _How are we going to leave these idiots?_ Isak communicated with his eyes. 

_I have no idea,_ Even replied.

The next month, they bid goodbye to Norway.

June fades to July, and now a month has passed and it’s August again, and they’re now living in Chicago. They have come full circle, and what a year it has been. Even spent the first half alone, lonely, and bearing a silent grudge on his husband for leaving, and over the course of that time there were happy tears and sad tears, and there was an unimaginable amount of sex when they were finally reunited again, and how could Even ever forget that one threat of divorce in Sacramento?

The rest of the year was finally spent with Isak, and there were still tears, but it’s more happy and less sad now. There’s still an unimaginable amount of sex because _duh_ , and since then there’s at least a dozen threats of divorce, but it’s only mostly triggered whenever Isak hears _August_ on the radio. 

At the end of the day, despite how unsettled they are at the moment, at least they’re unsettled together and that’s all that matters.

Even and Isak started talking about moving a month before Eva’s due date, because they always, _always_ talk about serious stuff now, and for quite a time they were at a loss. Isak was still insistent that while he’s back in Norway, he’s not planning on spending the rest of his life there, and Even harbors too much vendetta towards California that moving there was not even an option. That left them in a pickle and everything felt unresolved again for days.

Despite that, they did know that they share one common sentiment in mind: they are beyond ready to start anew and begin another chapter in their life. The only question was _where_ , and it plagued both of them for days, but then one April night on the way back from Elias’ flat, _Chicago_ came on the radio, and Isak started teasing Even about it like he always does whenever their songs started playing on the radio, but when he caught his husband’s eyes and a knowing smile was slowly spreading on his face, they just knew.

And well, here they are.

The first two weeks in Chicago were probably the most gruesome weeks of their lives, and that’s counting the days when Isak was about to take his finals, because _that_ was another level of gruesome on its own - Isak was about ready to murder Even when he tried to pull Isak away from his books simply by hiding them. Isak didn’t, thankfully - or not thankfully, because instead, he swore off sex for a whole week and somehow that felt worse, really.

The first time they moved in together was a park compared to this; granted they just moved to a different continent and they basically upheaved their entire life away from what they have been used to. It’s just that, the whole place stinks of unfamiliarity. Even and Isak’s families are so out of reach it’s kind of depressing just thinking about it. The physical absence of their friends is heartachingly palpable (and the times they manifest their existence through phone calls is highly unappreciated). It seems like the refreshing some-to-none recognition from people is just a fleck of consolation. Even is still impartial about the climate of Chicago, the lack of fjords is definitely tangible, and he has yet to master the English language and polish his American accent.

Still and all, Isak survived his finals way back then, and Even is a hundred and ten percent sure that they’ll survive this, too. In fact, he just had his third session with Finn, his hired American English tutor yesterday, and Even has come to learn that apparently, ‘gastropub’ is actually a british slang. 

Take _that_ , Mikael. 

The bottom line is despite all that, Even is more than ready to call Chicago his home.

He’s with his husband now, after all.

And speaking of - 

“I’m sticky now, baby,” Isak groans, but there’s this glint in his eyes, and since they still haven’t unpacked the boxes labeled ‘DRAPES AND SHIT’, the sun rays filter right through their clear kitchen glass windows, hitting Isak’s face just right, and Even can distinctly capture how his emerald eyes sparkle with a mixture of innocence and mischief, and it’s so familiar and so warm and so perfect. 

So, so perfect.

Even sighs heavenward, and surrounded by the still unpacked boxes in the middle of their new Chicago apartment, Even walks up to his husband and _licks_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fin
> 
>   
> prequel - The Making Of:


End file.
